


What My Mother Would Have Wanted

by Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, Canon Era Homophobic Language, Canon Era Typical Violence, Canon Gay Character, F/M, Gaston is creepy, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Internalized Homophobia, LeFou is basically Adam's smol bean, M/M, Mrs. Potts is the head of the LeFou protection squad, Reading, References to Shakespeare, Shakespearean Sonnets, Tea Pot Mom is Best Mom, graphic depictions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 38
Words: 59,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces/pseuds/Puzzle_with_Infinite_Pieces
Summary: Beauty and the Beast AU!Maurice had no idea what he was asking of LeFou when he called on him as a witness.**The epic is finally finished**





	1. A Madman, A Spinster, and A What ...? Sounds Like a Bad Joke!

**Author's Note:**

> AU in which “LeFou” (Étienne Lefevre) decides to let his conscience be his guide and reveal Gaston's attempt at murder.

Maurice desperately tries to find someone to call as a witness that the townsfolk will believe, and he then he sees LeFou who appears to be trying to hide. For a moment, he feels something like sympathy for the man who at the moment looks more like a lost child. LeFou’s eyes are downcast, and he seems to be grappling with what to do if he's called upon. However, more than anything Maurice can tell that the young man wants to explain what happened in the forest. He assumes the odd mannerisms are due to the guilt of witnessing Gaston's villainy without trying to fight back. Maurice recalls how LeFou so often tries to prevent Gaston from doing damage to others, and, hardly ever due to a fault of LeFou’s own, always seemed to fail. 

For a brief moment, Maurice feels awful that never found out LeFou’s Christian name. He’s never known LeFou to have any other name than "LeFou," so despite the unfortunate nature of the cruel nickname, he uses it. 

“M. LeFou. He was there. He saw.” Maurice nods in LeFou's direction.

LeFou looks over at Maurice his eyes are filled with terror at the prospect of confessing the nature of what he’d witnessed. Maurice assumes this is because LeFou feels guilty. However, Maurice hopes LeFou knows doesn't begrudge him even slightly because Gaston surely would have injured them both. Maurice also begins to wonder if the guilt comes from feeling responsible for Gaston’s actions. Maurice wants to tell LeFou there was no way he could have known what Gaston would do, and thus, there was no way he could have reacted any faster. But, Maurice finds him guiltless ... unless he lies. 

LeFou knows that Maurice is right to call him as a witness, and that the man isn’t trying to harm him. But, he finds himself terrified at what Gaston will do to him if he speaks as his maman would want him to. Her first, and only lesson that he recalls, was teaching him to speak the truth. 

But, would she want him dead? 

He laughs inside his head to himself. Maybe he’s over reacting. 

However, Gaston’s towering form is above him mere moments after this thought has crossed his mind. He knows that death really is something he should fear when Gaston grips his shoulder and begins twisting it. The vice grip only gets harder as Gaston breathes into his face. 

LeFou feels Gaston pull his face up by the chin. Gaston pulls down LeFou’s lower lip slightly, and he smiles, though, not kindly. It’s a sign and he knows it. Gaston will reveal him to this entire tavern, and he will never be able to hide again. He will never be safe here, or probably any where. LeFou knows this when he sees Gaston’s eyes filled with rage and venom. He knows what will happen if he tells the tavern-goers what happened that day in the forest. He tries to buy himself more time to make the decision. 

“Well …” LeFou chokes, “That’s sort of a matter of opinion.” 

Gaston’s hand squeezes his shoulder harder, and his eyes burrow into LeFou’s as if daring him to continue.

Maurice is confused now. Can’t these people see? Are they blind? He’s ready to pick LeFou up off the ground if this abuse continues much longer. He can see Gaston hurting the young man, and he sees how much Gaston is hurting LeFou with each twist Gaston gives LeFou's left shoulder. 

“But, yes, it … he … we … we did.” LeFou feels a slight weight lift from him, but the second the guilt is gone a sinking feeling of dread replaces it. 

The town’s folk look at Gaston who starts laughing hysterically. Maurice runs to LeFou, and he grips the young man’s shoulder when he sees LeFou go a few shades paler than his already ghostly skin. 

“You don’t know do you?” Gaston stares at the pair condescendingly and then looks back at the tavern-goers. 

“We know now by three accounts that you’ve attempted murder!” Pére Robert shouts. 

“Oh do shut up, Father. You won’t be defending him long. Now, people can you really trust a fool? Even one who loves me so? Even the loyalest of fools are in the end just fools.” He smirks looking right at LeFou who’s shaking violently now.

Maurice suddenly realizes that he put this young man in grave danger. Maurice himself would be a fool if he didn’t notice the way the crowd suddenly seems so calm under Gaston’s lulling voice. Gaston's lies keep getting more and more far fetched as he talks about his former friend’s foolishness and stupidity on the battlefield and hunting grounds. 

“Please … please … don’t do this …” LeFou’s voice catches in his throat. 

LeFou knows where Gaston is taking this and he’s terrified for his life. He knows where these stories are going, and he feels like he might faint if not for Maurice’s steadying presence. He knows he has done the right thing for the first time in his entire life. God would not have taken his maman and his favorite sister if he wasn’t who he is. He shakes the thought from his head. 

The farther Gaston goes the more Maurice notices LeFou's shaking, and at one point it gets so bad that Maurice and Agathe help him into a chair. Maurice keeps one firm hand on LeFou’s shoulder, and in his other he holds one of LeFou’s trembling hands. 

“So, good people,” Gaston smirks. “He tries to make me look bad to avert your eyes from his sin and his filth.” 

“Which is what?” M. Jean asks curious now. 

The entire tavern leans in to hear Gaston’s words. 

Gaston smirks. “My dear people I’m going to make this simple for you. Can you expect to trust the testimony’s of a madman?”

They shake their heads no.

“An old spinster and hag?” 

Another no. 

LeFou grips Maurice’s hand so tight his knuckles turn white. He’s almost hyperventilating, and Maurice just rubs soothing circles on LeFou’s tense back. He's frightened now too, and not just for himself. 

“What about a sodomite?” 

Maurice hears the word fall from Gaston’s lips like a guillotine blade. 

In slow motion, the entire tavern turns to look at LeFou whose shaking body and tear stained cheeks betray him before his brain can think of a convincing lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the rough language. I'm trying to keep this as canon typical as humanly possible.  
> I apologize to members of the LGBT+ community because this chapter was painful as all get out to write. It will get better though I swear!


	2. Bravery is By Far the Kindest Word for Stupidity, Don't You Think?

The first thing Maurice registers are LeFou’s tears on his hands. Then, he hears the shouts of people arguing over their fate. Some want them both to go to an asylum, and some call for LeFou’s imminent death. Either way, Maurice finds that he’s mostly been forgotten, and he wants to make a scene, but he can’t quite bring himself to. 

He finds himself worried the entire village might try to lynch LeFou, and he watches how their loud argumentative voices effect the young man’s disposition. The shaking remains consistent even with Maurice mostly holding LeFou in his arms. He finds himself pushing back stray hairs from LeFou’s face, and he thinks that maybe talking might help take their minds off the waiting game. 

“What’s your real name?” He asks over the screams and crazed voices of the citizen of Villeneuve.

“Étienne.” LeFou knows where the question comes from. 

“How do you get LeFou from Étienne?” Maurice asks confused. 

“You don’t. “LeFou” parodies Lefevre my surname,” LeFou half laughs to himself. He finds the tears abating slightly, and for a moment he thinks he might pull himself together. 

“Do you have family?” Maurice presses. 

If he makes it out of this, he wants to tell this boy’s mother that her son was kind, strong, and brave. He wants her to know that her son died a hero in his eyes. 

But, LeFou gives him a sharp breath in response. “No. Not here.”

Maurice hears LeFou’s voice grow shaky. 

“Maman died when I was little. So, Cosette, my oldest and favorite sister cared for me. Then she passed away. My father sent me away and married off my remaining sisters. He knew …”

Maurice looks up to heaven, and hopes that there might be some peace for this man in the universe somewhere. He wonders why people so often only see their own suffering, and are blind even to the most similar circumstances of those around them. 

Maurice feels the shuddering of shoulders under his hands again. He holds the man closer, and, underneath his second-hand grief, he is glad LeFou was able to make a last confession before they are given away to the angry mob calling for both their deaths. 

Suddenly, arms grab hold of both Maurice’s shoulders. He realizes that he and LeFou are being pulled away from each other and out the door. As they drag them both outside, Maurice realizes their one defender, Pére Robert, has abandoned them. 

Maurice isn’t sure if the young pastor has left because he can’t do anything to help them, or if he leaves because he is afraid for his own saftey. He considers that it is likely both. The witch hunt has begun, and he knows the young African pastor has much to fear in the sight of these conservative villagers. Maurice knows that they’ve been waiting for a reason to force Pére Robert out of Villeneuve because of his desire to teach young women to read. He shudders at the thought of what accusations they could pose against him for such a noble passion. Therefore, Maurice finds himself glad beyond reason that Pére Robert has left them if only because that means at least Belle will have one safe person to return to if she ever escapes the confines of the Beast’s castle. 

A pained scream turns his attention back to his young charge whom someone has flung to his knees. People laugh as Tom and Dick stand in front of LeFou’s face. The younger man, Stanley, has found his way into the back of the crowd. Maurice can’t help but notice that he’s crying, and Maurice blinks back tears of his own as both men pull his face into their waists despite his protests. The people still laugh, and they holler for more as they do they drown out soft pleas for an end to the torture. 

Maurice can’t help but take in the humiliating and pitiful sight. The cries for mercy become more persistent, and the only thing Maurice can do is look to heaven and beg for that prayer to be answered. However, he barely has time to register the thought before he finds himself flung into the back of a cart on it’s way to the asylum. 

He protests with a loud grunt. He longs to reach the young man and take the blows and humiliation away. He wants to hold him close and keep him safe from the painful laughter. He hears the boy scream, and he’s not sure he wants to know what happened to cause that ear shattering scream to escape his young friend’s mouth. 

Suddenly, he sees Gaston approach him with an evil smile crossing over his face. 

“Have you ever seen the inside of an asylum Maurice? You wouldn’t last a week. Just give me your daughter’s hand …” 

“You will never marry my daughter. If this is how you treat your friends, how will you treat my child as your wife? You would see her as property, not a person. It’s the same way you saw him, and it’s exactly how you see her. He was easy prey for you wasn’t he? Vulnerable. Innocent. Hurting.” Maurice gestures towards the sounds of LeFou’s cries.“You are despicable.” 

“Fools,” Gaston spits out the word, “are quick to trust, and easy to replace.” 

“That boy is no fool, Gaston. I assure you.” His puts a sharp edge of defiance on his voice. He finds himself all too used to this argument because he’s had it more times in his long years than he wants to admit. 

Gaston turns away in disgust and anger, and joins the villagers who have begun beating LeFou. He covers his head as he tries and fails to avoid further humiliation, and for a moment he locks eyes with Gaston. His heart tightens, and he finds it dying to break. He feels someone’s spit run down his neck, and his mind registers the dirt in his hair. LeFou’s world moves in slow motion. 

It stops. All of it stops when he feels someone help up into an upright position. The savior allows him to sit as opposed to kneel and this one act of kindness is enough to cause fresh tears to fall.

The crowd has since gone silent. It takes him a moment to register that not only has the pain stopped but so has the sound. He keeps his eyes away from the mysterious stranger who rescued him. The person’s presence is calming. They remind him of Cosette, and so he dares to lean into the touch slowly and with extreme caution. 

He knows Cosette wouldn’t hurt him, but Cosette has been dead since he was seven years old. She died of the same illness that took their mother. But, he refuses to dwell on those thoughts for too long.

“You’re safe now,” the warm and safe body whispers. The voice, a woman’s voice, is soft and sweet, and laced with truth to that promise. 

His savior gets up, and leaves him so he dares look up. LeFou realizes that his savior was Maurice’s daughter, and he feels guilty for ever once trying to help Gaston win her hand. Many of the villagers ask her where she has been, and she proclaims to the village that she really has come from a beast’s castle. 

When the villagers press her for proof she gives it. 

LeFou shuts his eyes tight he knows what will come next. 

Gaston urges the townsfolk to believe that Belle’s kind and gentle Beast is dangerous. He convinces them with little effort that this beast is out to kill everyone, and that he will murder the whole village. Belle protests this, and tries to make them understand that the Beast isn’t what he looks like he is. She’s met this Beast, and therefore, her account is far more reliable to LeFou. He wants to make people listen to her, but he’s not sure he can. 

He feels the dried tears sticking to his face, and he finds himself covered in the dirty gravel that makes up Villeneuve’s roads. He convinces himself to rekindle the last of his courage when the villagers move to put Belle in the asylum cart with her father. LeFou will have none of that. He moves uneasily and with no small degree of nerves, but he nevertheless steps in front of her. 

Maurice presses himself to the bars muttering to himself, “No, ‘Tienne, you’ve done enough. Go home, son. Let them forget you.” 

LeFou reassures him, however, that no one will forget. He might as well make the most of the time he has because he knows that once they’re finished with Belle and her father that they’ll come for him. 

“Don’t touch her! It’s enough that you all believe every damn word that …” he sees stars for a moment, but shakes off the punch Gaston deals him. 

“Want to say more? It wasn’t hard to do. I can do it again.” Gaston pats the same cheek he’d hit. 

LeFou now chooses to keep his mouth shut, but still stands in front of Belle. She puts a hand on his shoulder. The crowd is getting restless alternating between “Kill the sodomite,” “Kill the beast,” and “kill them both.” 

Gaston chooses to give the people what they want. He leads them off towards the castle, and when Belle tries to protest again. LeFou points to her hair pin and then to Maurice’s lock. 

The rest of the village departs without a second thought as Belle unlocks her father’s cage. He lets the two of them convene while he tries to steady himself for a moment. Gaston’s punch almost knocked him out. He knows he should be careful, but he has a plan. 

“You should sit. He hit you pretty hard. May I see?” She moves to look at his jaw. 

“I’m fine. I have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.” LeFou shakes some of the gravel out of his hair. “See I was thinking we follow behind them a little ways, but then while you find your Beast I’ll distract Gaston. I don’t know how much time I can buy you, but I’ll try to find you some.” 

“I don’t like this.” Maurice looks at the rose rattle in his hands. “But, I know that we don’t have much choice.” 

Belle is stunned by both LeFou’s and her father’s selflessness. 

So, she smiles and hugs the both close. “You both have so much courage.”

She hugs her father one last time, and then turns to wrap her arms around LeFou. “Thank you. You were so brave.” 

He laughs, “Bravery is just a kinder term for foolishness.” 

“Then come and be foolish with me?” She climbs onto her horse’s back. 

He smiles and mounts his horse while he rides behind her to the Beast’s castle.

He takes a deep breath and addresses his horse in a whisper, “Okay, Pote, please don’t throw me this time. Yeah?” 

The horse throws its head as if to say “On a cold day in Hell.”

He sighs, “That’s what I figured.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter ended in a totally different place than I thought it would. The scene demanded far more attention and detail than I thought it might. 
> 
> But, I'd say expect the next update Friday. I don't want to get your hopes up since I have school during the week and a manuscript level copy of 15 pages of a novel I'm working on for a seminar class is due less than a week from today. So .... 
> 
>  
> 
> Easter Eggs and Fun Facts about the Chapter:
> 
> Pote means "buddy" in French. The name and the line comes from watching way too many Beauty and the Beast cast interviews. Buddy was the name of the horse who almost threw Josh Gad more than once while filming. 
> 
> The title is a Mycroft Holmes quote from BBC Sherlock.


	3. I Wish I Knew My Brothers Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys, guys! I just discovered the wonder that is Rich Text formatting!

The ride to the castle isn’t long, and they aren’t far behind the rest of the residents of Villeneuve who left before them. The first thing LeFou notices is the dark, and he would be ashamed to admit that he’s slightly afraid. He leaves a candle burning until the last possible moment before he goes to sleep because he’s petrified of what might live in the shadows. He doesn’t want to know what demons live under his bed, or in this forest. Yes, he realizes that’s silly for a twenty-one year old man to be terrified of the dark, but it doesn’t make the fear any less real to him. 

 

Not for the first time that night, he curses under his breath because the residents of Villeneuve took _all_ of the torches, so both LeFou and Belle are relying on following _their_ torch lights. 

 

Even with the bright torches in the distance, he can’t help but notice the crushing and inescapable darkness of the forest. The June snow falls on the other side of the clearing to the right of the fallen tree, and the chill of the forest begins to seep out from the fork in the road. It sends a shiver up both of their spines as they ride into the clearing. 

 

LeFou finds himself freezing as they ride through the snowy forest to the castle. Other than the creaking of the trees in the darkness, the extreme cold is one of the first things he registers upon entering the snowy woods. He bites back a soft sneeze as the chill penetrates his summer jacket. He pulls it tighter around himself. He looks ahead and sees Belle gracefully pushing Philippe on despite her shivers. 

 

He can’t help but feel sorry for her when he realizes all she has on is the slip that was under her ball gown. She pushes Philippe on faster, and he tries to get Pote to move.  


The horse actually slows down. He draws his eyebrows down over his eyes. Yeah, he knew that was a long shot. His horse just trots along at whatever pace it wants. 

 

Belle gives him a laugh. “Your horse really hates you!” 

 

“You have no idea!” He shouts, “I’m just glad it’s not as bad as last week!” 

 

“What happened last week?” She teases lightly, but he recognize an undertone of genuine curiosity in her voice. 

 

“He almost threw me into your father!” He laughs. “Literally! He was walking, and Pote decided ‘you two need to meet each other,’ and he tried to buck me off right into him.” 

 

She turns around and gives him an incredulous look. 

 

“True story. Pote hates me!” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I ever did to him to deserve this kind of treatment. He just has a mind of his own.”

 

They continue laughing as they approach the main gate, and for a moment both of them forget the chill in the air and the stress of the situation that is upon them. 

 

And so, by the time they reach the bars of the gate, they are filled with hapless laughter. LeFou has told her more about Pote’s antics than anyone he’s ever known. In a few short minutes, she knows more about how clumsy he is than people who witnessed these events first hand. They take a moment to breathe and lose themselves in giggles. 

 

“I still can’t believe that!” She looks at him with disbelief. 

 

“Believe it. Pote does not live up to his name. He’s evil,” he whispers into her ear making her laugh. 

 

Then she looks sad for a moment. He’s so sweet, and funny. She wonders why people try to take advantage of his love for life. Belle looks at him and realizes he never really wanted to be like Gaston. Well, maybe he did, but only insofar as to gain people's respect, and maybe even just to feel safe. 

 

He knows what she’s thinking. He’s weird. That’s what she’s thinking. He knew he shouldn’t have taken the stories so far because now she’ll find him weird just like everyone else.So, he pushes open the castle gates, and they make their way to the large staircase at the front of the castle. 

 

They find that the doors are open when they approach, and they hear the screams of the villagers from the inside. Belle and LeFou carefully walk up the steps to the open scene in front of them, and as they approach they begin to hear and see exactly what is occurring.

 

Clothilde is getting hit in the face by a feather duster covered in makeup while M. Jean fights off a few candlesticks. An old clock stands at the top of the stairs looking at a map and shouting directions. 

 

Gaston screams profanities as a sentient harpsichord pins him to the ground, and several other villagers are screaming as other conscious household items attack them. 

 

For a moment, they relish in the fact that no one sees them. However, the old clock is the one who spots them first, and before they can tell him they’re trying to be inconspicuous he alerts almost everyone in the vicinity to their presence. 

 

“Belle! You’re back! Thank heavens!” Cogsworth shouts. 

 

Gaston looks up at the clock and then over at the pair. He narrows his eyes at LeFou when he places a protective hand on Belle’s shoulder. 

 

“Don’t worry about Gaston, I’ll deal with him.”

 

Her tense posture visibly loosens, and she tentatively calls to Cogsworth, “Where is he?”

 

“West Wing. I tried to get him to help us and himself, but he won’t listen. He’s stubborn as always,” Cogsworth shouts. 

 

Gaston gives a last effort at the harpsichord, but sensing what will happen if he moves, Maestro Cadenza presses down even harder. 

 

“Go,” LeFou gives Belle’s hands a squeeze. “I’ve got this.” 

 

She looks him in the eyes, and throws her arms around him. “Please, please, stay safe.” 

 

“I don’t make promises anymore. Too many people have made them and, through no fault of their own, broke them,” he mutters into her ear sadly. 

 

She pulls away from him and looks him in the eyes. He looks away to the floor, and she shakes her head softly. For an instant, Belle is sad she’d never talked to him and never really knew him. She finds herself considering that this man, who’s not much older than herself, has been just as hurt, terrified, and annoyed with Gaston as she was. But, LeFou didn’t have the luxury of rebellion. She could defy and deny Gaston all she wanted, but LeFou had trusted him. That trust made it such that he couldn’t escape. The innocent secret he shared with his friends became the chains that bound him to Gaston and made Gaston his master. So, she pulls him into one final tight embrace trying to convey every apology she doesn’t know how to say. 

 

He relaxes into that embrace, and for a moment he feels human. He wants this moment to last forever because in that instant, he finds himself cared for. So, he’s not sure what he wants to do as he’s caught between tears and laugher. 

 

She pulls away from him and brushes a few stray hairs from his face. She whispers that she wants him to see her as soon as this is all over, and then she squeezes his hands as she departs. She runs up the main staircase towards the west wing of the castle as the clock informed her to. 

 

LeFou wonders if he’s dead and dreaming for a moment, but if this is a dream then he wants it to end happily. 

 

Gaston is fuming with rage. She’s never looked at him with such tenderness, and there she is holding that sodomite like her brother and best friend. How dare she! Belle is no longer the object of his affection, instead, in that moment, she’s his greatest enemy.

 

So, when Gaston finally gets out from under the harpsichord, he heads after her. Gaston pushes himself to his feet tries to sprint after Belle, and he almost succeeds in reaching her before LeFou grabs him by the shoulder. They are near the top of the stairs, and the sudden force knocks both of them back. 

 

Both of them tumble down one on top of the other for a full flight of stairs. LeFou’s grasp on Gaston is finally broken when they hit the landing. Gaston stops at the base of the west wing landing on his back, and LeFou finally skids on his side to the center of the wide landing. 

 

LeFou shakes off the adrenaline pumping through him after the fall. He looks around at the chaos, and realizes if Gaston gets up he is on his own because no one is watching them. 

 

Gaston figures if he can’t have the beast’s head, or Belle’s hand, then being the hero who killed the sodomite is a nice third prize. And that prize, he realizes will help him achieve the others. He realizes it’s not Belle’s fault but LeFou’s. LeFou in all his flattery has actually been Gaston’s stumbling block. So, he pulls out his knife. He wants this death to be slow, agonizingly slow. 

 

LeFou notices the knife in Gaston’s hand, and he swallows hard as tries for his own knife at his belt. But, he soon realizes that his knife is not there. He holds his hands up signaling that he has no weapon. He wants to call for a more fair fight, but Gaston just smirks at him shaking his head. Gaston’s eyes shine with bloodlust or something equally sinister as he brandishes the medium sized blade. 

 

LeFou gulps, and looks around him for an object that he could use as a shield, but he comes up dry. There isn’t a single coat rack or candlestick that isn’t alive and fighting. He lets out a nervous laugh to himself as Gaston continues to move toward him as if he were an animal. He knows that’s all he ever really was to Gaston, and when a hunting dog goes rabid you have to put it down. He knows Gaston sees him as that rabid hunting dog, and so, LeFou prepares himself for Gaston to go in for the kill. 

 

He’s scared, yet, he wonders why he didn’t just expect this. Gaston had always been ready to go in for the kill. Hell, he tied Maurice to a tree when the elderly man denied Gaston his daughter’s hand. A father has right especially when he is simply following what his child has asked for. 

 

LeFou never thought Gaston would ever actually pull a knife on him, but he should have known better. He always should have known better, but when did he ever think about the consequences of his actions. And, when did Gaston ever play fair? 

 

 

_First, I carefully aim for the liver, Then I shoot from behind._

 

_Is that fair?_

 

_I don’t care._

 

The words play over and over in LeFou’s head as Gaston seems to stalk him carefully. LeFou backs up towards the east wing’s stair case. 

 

He now knows what deer feel like. He never wanted to know, but now he knows. He doubts that he will ever eat hunted meat again because he knows what it feels like to be on the opposite side of a hunter’s rage. 

 

Gaston leaps forward, and pins him against the rails of the landing. LeFou’s back presses up against the bars, and he registers the pain of the upper most rail digging deep into the exact center of his spine. His heart sinks. He knows why Gaston chose this position. Because, now Gaston can do whatever he wants, and no one will see. 

 

LeFou lunges forward to grab Gaston’s wrist, but Gaston is faster. He pushes the hunting knife with a decent bit of force into LeFou’s left side just under his lung. There’s no major organ there because he went under the lung, but it does what Gaston wanted to accomplish. It stuns him, and it leaves him bleeding heavily as Gaston pulls the blade out of LeFou’s side. 

 

LeFou’s arm instinctually presses against the wound, and he desperately tries to catch his bearings. He can hardly believe it. Gaston just stabbed him. There’s physical proof, but he still can’t quite believe it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that was really mean to end there. I have the next chapter about half edited. I just need to read it out loud. I'll post that tomorrow afternoon. It's starting to move folks and quickly. 
> 
> All works is beta'd by me, as in, it is un beta'd. So, any mistakes are mine, but being an English major I can usually catch big grammar mistakes if I read it out loud to myself. Sometimes, however, that takes a lot of time. I take pride in the quality of both published and fan fiction and hold myself to that standard. So, please let me know if you see anything. I know I missed a few articles in the last few chapters, and that's my bad. I'm working on correcting that. 
> 
>  
> 
>  Additionally in this really long note, I really want to thank the regulars and people who have been taking the time to comment on these last two chapters. You guys are awesome and have really helped me to understand where I want this story to move. I have a pretty definite plot arc set for myself; however your lovely comments remind me of where I want the focus and heart of my writing to be. 
> 
> Plot is important, but what is most important, to me and apparently to my readership, is highlighting LGBTQ+ characters and focusing on relationships in chosen family. So as this becomes darker and more painful to read, know that if I am late updating I'm trying to develop these relationships as I would a character or characters in one of my books or short stories. Sometimes I find fan fiction as an exercise harder because you are already working within someone else's constraints. So, again as things get more trippy expect slower updates so that I can adequately write each character. 
> 
> Thank you so so much for all your patience and your replies,
> 
> Pip! 
> 
>  
> 
> Easter Eggs:
> 
> Fear of the dark - that's me! I am afraid of the dark (fun fact about me). 
> 
> Brought back Buddy (Pote) the horse, and added to the craziness, while indirectly sort of referencing a Josh Gad interview on Jimmy Fallon.
> 
> Gaston Song reference is italicized. I found those lines really applicable to this scene.
> 
> Those are the big ones anyway.
> 
> Additionally I wanted to add medical notes, I knew forgot something in the note section when I posted this fic so forgive the late addition. 
> 
> Also, thank you to Bunny Ears for the comment that reminded me that I forgot to add this, and for the additional medical knowledge I was unaware of you're a life saver. 
> 
> First, be aware LeFou is pretty disoriented at this point, so he may or may not have the entry point of the knife wrong. Additionally, nerves can send odd or mixed signals when trauma occurs.
> 
> Secondly, he's not sure how far down the lungs in the human body extend, so be aware it might not be as high up as he thinks it is. 
> 
> Thirdly, recall his physical stature because in this case that might just save his life since fewer of his organs would be as "exposed" to blunt force trauma. Several ER doctors have stated that fatty tissue around the abdominal and chest cavity can make those area less likely to get hit when they stabbed (gun shot wounds are a whole different story). However, these wounds are more likely to have other complications. So, watch for that. 
> 
> Lastly, be aware with puncture wounds it's all about angles. People have swallowed bullets that were shot down their throats and survived with no complications, and others get hit in the fattiest part of the leg and have their artery hit. It's all about angles. So, it is possible to avoid major organs in the side based on the angle the blade enters and leaves. 
> 
> So, friends, these next few chapters are about to get pretty interesting.


	4. Why Are You Hanging off the Earth Like A Bat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!!! This chapter is graphic! It contains gruesome images of Hypovolemic Shock, severe blood loss, and vomiting. 
> 
> If you're squeamish I've warned you.

LeFou is slightly surprised when he feels nothing even as Gaston pulls the blade out of his side. He hears the din of the battle around him. He know’s he’s bleeding. He can feel blood seeping out of him and onto his hand, but for some reason it doesn’t hurt. He’s still breathing normally, though, maybe a bit quicker in his confusion. He’s still thinking. He can still see. Everything seems fine, but he knows it’s not fine because he’s bleeding. 

He’s seen people die on the battlefield like this. He shudders when he remembers people who’ve been shot in the side, or near the lungs, or in the abdomen. Some of them would scream in pain and just collapse in pools of their own blood seconds after the injury. Some others just stopped breathing altogether almost immediately after the bullet pierced them. Others died slowly while infection consumed them after seemingly innocuous injuries. 

So, why doesn’t his injury hurt? Why isn’t that happening to him? Why is he being spared the almost instant painful deaths other people have experienced? 

He stumbles to his knees, but he still doesn’t register any pain from his wound. 

The seconds it takes him to think through this feel like hours, and so he is surprised when he turns his head to find that Gaston is only just mounting the first step of the west wing’s staircase. He remembers Belle ran up that staircase maybe minutes before. 

He’s confused for a moment because surely it must have taken them longer to fight than that? Hasn’t he been on the ground for twenty minutes or maybe thirty? So why is part of his brain telling him it hasn't been more than a few minutes? 

He finds it odd that his mind trails back to the knife that stabbed him. He realizes that Gaston must have put the knife back in its sheath before he headed up the stairs. He wonders if Gaston cleaned it first. Gaston was never very good about remembering to clean his knives. 

Then, he wonders if Gaston cleaned it after the last deer he killed, but that thought leaves him when he realizes that Belle might not have made it to the Beast yet. 

He can’t keep his mind on one thought for very long, but for now his mind is locked on Belle. 

He doesn’t know how massive the layout of the castle is, and he has no idea how far the west wing is from the staircase. What if she hadn’t found the Beast yet? Gaston is an expert tracker. He can find any beast, anywhere, and in a matter of minutes. 

So, LeFou hopes that Belle has some kind of plan. He didn’t plan to get taken down this quickly, but he figured Gaston wouldn’t play fair. He was right, of course, as always, or at least, he was always right about matters relating to Gaston. So, LeFou sends a silent prayer to a God he knows hates him that Belle has gotten to the Beast and warned him in the apparently short amount of time it took him to get injured. 

LeFou looks back up at the staircase and watches the last trace of Gaston’s red coat head up and towards the west wing of the castle. He swears under his breath when his side stings a little. He’s surprised because this is the first time pain has registered with him. But, it helps him reorient himself as the sharp stinging in his side reminds him where he is, and what he was doing. 

He suddenly desires to run up after Gaston, or call people’s attention to the madman running to kill their beast. However, everyone else is distracted. For a moment, he’s thankful that no one saw him get stabbed. He wonders briefly if it’s for the best because then he won’t distract anyone from the battle. 

He reassures himself that there’s no real need for him to get medical attention because even the stinging has now dissipated. He figures Gaston’s knife must have just appeared longer than it was, and that the cut was only deep enough to stun him. So, he decides to try and stand. He makes a pact with himself that if he can’t stand then he’ll call for help. 

 So, LeFou takes a breath and finds that standing is easier than perhaps it should be even with a superficial cut. He doesn’t feel how the wound opens more as he stands. For, he once again feels nothing, and in fact, he feels like he can take on Gaston and win this time. 

He looks at his hand, and it betrays him. He wipes a fair bit of his own blood off his hand and onto his coat. He finds that his luck hasn’t run out yet because he discovers that he can hide the open gash with his coat as it remained untouched by the blade.

And thus, he thanks heaven for small favors. 

He pulls the coat down to make the wound less conspicuous and rushes back out into the battle. He finds he moves just in time to save the white teapot woman from instant shattering death. He assumes that would be on the list of most painful ways to die, although, for a moment he’s not sure. Perhaps that death would be instantaneous and thus painless? 

Regardless, she shouts, “Thank you poppet,” over the noisy battle her colleagues raise against the townsfolk. 

He sees some angry villagers rushing at them. So he holds her tight and throws what’s left of the boiling hot liquid inside her out her spout and onto some of the villagers.

He feels a slight wave of dizziness hit him, as he spins, but he thinks nothing of it. He figures he must have turned too fast. 

“That was well handled,” she grins at him.

“Yeah, I used to be on Gaston’s side but we are in a bad place right now.” He teases as he tries to make a joke of the very serious danger Gaston has placed him in. 

“You’re too good for him anyway.” She winks. 

She can tell he’s sad, and likely hurting if the soft and tender hug Belle had given him said anything. If only she were human, she’d wrap her arms around him and place a kiss on his forehead. He looked frightened. She would have to push Belle and her father for more information about what had occurred before Gaston attacked the castle. 

It was her job after all. She had declared herself the mother of this castle many, many years ago, and therefore, when this boy stepped onto the castle grounds she adopted him by proxy. She thought that this was sort of an odd thing to declare to herself, but it mattered very little to her. She made that vow after Adam was lost to his father’s tyranny. She promised she would never let anything destroy the happiness of others ever again. And perhaps, she thought, it was too little too late when she declared her duty to Prince Adam. But this time, after Belle broke the curse, for Mrs. Potts is certain she will, she would ensure she preformed her motherly duty in the ways she had neglected when Adam was young. 

She looks up at LeFou, and she promises herself that this vow will extend beyond Adam to her young savior, to Belle, and to her own son. 

However, before she can put her thoughts into words, both Mrs. Potts and LeFou are startled by high soprano notes floating down through the rafters. LeFou watches as a giant chest of drawers, who Mrs. Potts informs him with a laugh is Mme Garderobe, jumps from the top of one of the many stair cases. 

Tom, Dick, and Stanley all approach her with what appears to be a dastardly purpose. However, the Mme dresses them all in fine and ornate dresses. Tom and Dick scream in shock and horror, but, to LeFou’s surprise, Stanley stays. He smiles and models for the Mme, and she sings to him. LeFou notices something like pleasure and admiration in those eyes. 

Pleasure at the frills?He wonders. He’d never expected that, and yet, he wonders why he’d never seen that there before. 

Then, for a moment, he feels the world start to sway. He sets Mrs. Potts down so he won’t accidentally kill her should he trip and fall. There’s nothing to say that he won’t accidentally kill himself on the stair case, but at least he won’t bring anyone with him this way. His head throbs suddenly, or at least, he didn’t notice before that it hurt this bad. 

Mrs. Potts watches him closely as he tries to stand again. She’s mildly concerned when his hand goes to his head. Was he hit with something? She half wonders. 

“Sit, and take care of yourself, poppet,” she commands in a light but motherly tone.

He nods, and sits on the stairs for a brief moment. He holds his head in his hands trying to stop the spinning world around him. He registers that he's beginning to feel nauseous either because of the pounding in his head or because the world wants to turn upside down. He's not sure which is the cause; however, he knows it is one of the two. He tries to collect himself by closing his eyes.  

It didn’t go that deep did it? 

Is it still bleeding? He can't actually tell. 

He doesn’t remember. All he know is that the more he thinks about the wound the more it hurts. Time is moving so fast and slow at the same time. He just wants to sleep, but it’s too loud. 

He hears a woman’s scream. He moves his head towards the noise a little too quickly. But once his eyes clear a little, he sees someone he vaguely recognizes pulling out all of one of the duster’s feathers.  

The candlestick, whom LeFou has heard some call Lumière, lets out a rage filled cry, but there’s no way Lumière will be there to help her in time.

LeFou finds his footing again, though far more unsteadily this time, and he punches the man violating the ornate and beautiful duster. LeFou cradles her in his hands for a moment while the other man runs off. She quickly springs back to life. 

“Thank you Monsieur!” She floats around his face. 

 “No problem Mlle …” he pauses waiting for her name.

 “Plumette,” she states.

 He grins, and laughs silently to himself because all of these objects’ names are just a bit too ironic. LeFou follows the sentient objects as they begin to chase the townsfolk out. Most of the villagers are running back to the town, while about a dozen confused and stunned individuals remain.

His eyes are pulled away from the villagers when the objects, or servants, he’s staring to understand, begin to become lethargic. LeFou is suddenly aware that many of them are slurring their words and quickly becoming immobile. He realizes that he is currently witnessing what will probably be their last words.

Lumière mourns his lover who has gone limp in his arms.

Mme Garderobe and her husband speak to each other for the last time as their stool, a dog perhaps, flops over.

Mrs. Potts calls out for her son, the tea cup, but falls into her object form completely before she can see him one last time. When the tea cup does come running to his mother the child nearly shatters himself. LeFou grabs the small saucer while the coat rack grabs the boy himself.

“Good show, my boy,” the small clock whispers to him.

 LeFou nods and gives the clock and the candlestick time to say their goodbyes. He would find it funny, maybe, in some other time or universe because objects, no matter how beautiful, should not be sentient. But instead, it breaks his heart to watch these objects loose their sentience if only because they were, no, are people.  And, he finds that he has come to enjoy their unique personalities even though the time he’s known them has been so brief.

He is so painfully aware that many of the objects are already frozen that he hardly notices Stanley standing in the doorway still clad in his beautiful ruffled dress.

“She did more for me than anyone I’ve ever known,” Stanley whispers giving the wardrobe an empty and broken look.  

LeFou looks over at him and cocks his head slightly, but his expression urges Stanley to continue. 

“I’ve always wanted to be pretty like this, you know?” He smiles and gives a broken laugh laced with sadness. “And now she’s gone with no way for me to thank her.” 

Stanley whimpers and looks close to tears. So, in one last hopeless feat, LeFou stands and goes to comfort him. He gently leans against Stanley both to express his sympathy and to support himself. 

LeFou is realizing quickly that the wound Gaston gave him must be deeper than a surface level scratch, that Gaston hadn’t cleaned the knife properly, or both because he’s ready to collapse. He blinks a few times to clear his vision, but he can’t get the edges of his sight back into focus. It’s starting to worry him slightly, but the fact that the stab wound hasn’t stopped bleeding concerns him more. 

He can feel the blood starting to pool in the untucked ruffles of his shirt around the injury. The pooling blood makes the shirt feel heavy there, and the blood is starting to cake on his skin and shirt around the wound. It’s going to be painful to take off, but he tries not to think about it. And yet, he can’t help noticing that it’s an odd and increasingly uncomfortable sensation. 

LeFou uses the hand that is not on Stanley’s shoulder in a vain attempt to reduce the movement of the fabric near the wound so that he won’t feel air literally passing into the wound at his side. He is also vaguely aware that stopping the bleeding might help his vision return to normal. 

But, he would be lying to himself if he didn’t acknowledge that he was starting to get a bit anxious. 

How deep is the wound? 

Is it still bleeding because it pierced something important?

Were there any important organs besides the lungs there? 

Do the lungs even extend that far? 

Is it going to kill him?

Well, he thinks, if he’s going to die at least he’s in good company. 

Stanley looks over at LeFou and realizes that the other man’s eyes are slightly unfocused. Stanley can’t tell if it’s because LeFou is about to cry or if he’s hurt. So, he just lets LeFou use him as a support. 

“Are you alright?” Stanley says after a moment.

LeFou gives him his classic goofy lopsided grin and nods that he’s fine.But, his face falls for a moment when he looks around at the objects that are now completely still. “It’s just sad, you know?” LeFou murmurs. 

Stanley doesn’t appear to accept that this is the only reason LeFou seems distant as he sees beads of sweat forming on LeFou’s forehead, and he notices LeFou’s eyebrows seem to be knit in concentration. 

Stanley is about to comment on his observation, but suddenly something like fireworks explode around them. A bright golden light emerges from one of the widows in the west wing, and begins running down the side of the building. The castle’s grimy and crumbling grey stone is quickly transforming itself into beautiful white brick. 

LeFou couldn’t tell you what happened between the stone changing and feeling like his heart might try and escape his chest. His heart started racing shortly after the building’s transformation. Yet, he miraculously finds a way to stay inconspicuous. 

He feels confused and cold, and more than anything he wants to sit down before he falls over. However, he just can’t seem to command his muscles to sit. He just kind of sways on his feet. He manages to find steady footing when he sees people leaving the castle, and between their intense focus and his brief ability to steady himself they don’t notice him. He’s grateful because he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. 

His vision begins to dissipate more quickly than before, and he feels like he’s in a tunnel. His head really hurts, and he feels pounding behind his eyes while simultaneously feeling as though his head is in a vice. He can hear every word that’s being spoken, and at the same time he just hears the pounding of blood in his ears. He begins to feel like he might be sick. So, he forces himself to kneel, and leans forward a little. He holds his side while trying to steady his breathing. 

He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth in a vain attempt to stop the cramps in his stomach. 

Suddenly, he realizes that Stanley’s presence gone, and the man has probably been gone for a minute or more. Tears begin to prick his eyes. 

Is Stanley dead like the objects? 

Is LeFou the only one that survived? 

Then, he’s vaguely aware of Stanley’s voice somewhere talking to … is that Maurice’s daughter?

He is happy that, at least in this dream he’s having, she survived. He’s happy Gaston didn’t hurt her. He hopes her Beast is safe. He assumes he is when he hears a sweet baritone voice that he doesn’t recognize address her. 

There are several other voices he vaguely recognizes, but that he doesn’t recognize all the same. There’s a shouting match going on between the crow-like lady,Clothilde, from his village and the clock. He can hear that, but not clearly. 

He can hardly see anything but blurs at this point and no amount of blinking or shaking his head seems to be helping clear his sight anymore. The nausea that accompanied his headache over the last several minutes is much worse now as well, and his head is still pounding. He feels a bead or two of sweat dripping down his neck, but he’s so cold. He wants to sleep because maybe then it’ll be warm, and his head will stop hurting when he wakes up. 

He’s confused when he feels a hand on his shoulder. He arches his shoulders, and again the quick movement exacerbates the pain in his head and stomach. He bites back the growing desire to expel everything in his stomach as another cramp twists his insides. 

The voice that’s talking to him is soft, and it’s gentle. The mysterious stranger knows his name, and gently rubs his back. The voice is so calm, but he can’t seem to respond to it. 

Why is it hard to breathe, suddenly? 

Stanley. That’s the voice’s name, and it keeps whispering to him, “Étienne? ‘Tienne, petit, are you alright? How can I help you? What hurts, mon ami?”

He can’t decide if he wants to be honest or not. He tries to take a deep breath in and speak, but he can’t get it back out. The breath is caught in his throat.

Stanley. He’s certain that’s who it is. It has to be. Stanley is rubbing his back telling him it’s okay. He finds himself gagging and tastes something acrid in his mouth as tears fall down his cheeks. The noises are gone now, and they’re replaced by pounding in his ears. He can’t hear anything other than loud banging and thumping noises, and he’s terrified.

He’s vaguely aware of another pair of hands holding his hair. He realizes after a brief time that they must belong to the baritone voice that was speaking to the woman earlier. It murmurs directly into his ear so he can hear it clearly, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Just let it out. Let it pass, it’s okay. You’re in good company now. We’ve got you. That’s it. That’s it, just let it pass.” 

He can’t hear Stanley anymore, but he’s sure the hands that are still rubbing his back belong to him. 

LeFou is confused, but he’s glad someone’s there to keep his hair out of his mouth and comfort him as his stomach rebels again. This time his stomach brings up nothing, but squeezes itself tighter in a vain effort to maybe try and push itself up out his mouth. He coughs and gags for what feels like hours, and all the while he feels tears rushing down his cheeks. He tries to stay quiet. He doesn’t want to burden anyone else because he's already distracted at least two people. 

What LeFou doesn't realize is that Stanley tried to discretely pull Adam and Belle aside. He wanted to avoid people crowding LeFou and making things worse by having him feel trapped. Belle and Adam agreed that this was likely the best course of action. So, they divided the work amongst themselves. Belle would cover him from the front, Adam would sit at side, and Stanley would be behind him. However, Stanley would approach first and let LeFou know people were coming to help him. From the way he looked, all three of them thought he'd been hit in the head and had maybe been concussed. 

Belle pushes some of LeFou's bangs into Adam's hands as another violent wave of nausea seems to hit. She looks into both of her companions eyes, and all of them are quickly growing more concerned as the gagging and coughing seem to come closer and closer together. Each round is separated by a slight gasp and then a little groan filled with agony. 

LeFou's stomach cramps again and he falls forward to vomit, but then, his head spins and pounds worse than before. It makes his stomach cramp up again, and the cycle continues over and over and over. It finally stops, and he pants heavily for a few seconds. 

He notices a blurry face in front of him. She looks worried, and she gently wipes tears off his cheeks with a gentle but firm stroke of her thumb. 

Stanley? Someone, anyway, squeezes LeFou’s shoulder as they try to bring him back up from his huddled position on the ground. They keep trying to bend his knees, but that hurts and he doesn’t want to. He lets out a soft whimper, and the woman seems to try and stop them. She seems to want them to slow down. 

LeFou begins to see darkness and little black spots clouding his vision as he looks up at the woman in front of him. Her mouth moves but he can’t tell what she’s saying.  

He decides that now is the perfect time to make a joke because it's just in his nature to try and lighten the mood. 

So, he smiles and gives a breathless broken laugh. “Hands down this is the most bittersweet day of my life. And quite possibly the last.” 

His eyes roll back and he collapses into someone’s lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided to separate chapter 4 and 5 since that will keep my update schedule more regular, and I like routine, so 24 hours friends! I hope you can make that long. 
> 
> I've attempted to make this more serious in terms of injury unlike the film does, so I attempted to write going into shock for the first time. I've been looking into both medical resources for lay people as well as ones particularly dedicated to writers. 
> 
> That being said, even if no one thought this needed a graphic warning pre-chapter I did. I'm pretty squeamish myself, and when I re-read the chapter I thought to myself "if I didn't write this I would have wanted someone to warn me about it." So, that's why you were warned. 
> 
> Also, as before, I am completely open to critique on how I portray physical illness/injury. I don't pretend to be a medical professional and this is one of the first times I've ever even attempted writing puncture wounds. I've looked at recourses for writers and googled as much as I could, but obviously there's a lot you'll miss if you don't practice medicine. 
> 
> Also, thanks to ScriptMedic on tumblr for the excellent puncture wound resources specifically for abdominal punctures. It's a fantastic resource. I just reblogged it recently, and it has been immensely helpful. 
> 
> So, yeah ... we're moving in a more realistic direction than the films friends. 
> 
> However, for my lovely medical professionals, I do have to take into account that I am writing in a fandom that allows people to get crushed by pianos and be turned into literal snowmen on people's front porch and never exhibit signs of punctured lungs or hypothermia in that order. 
> 
> Therefore, I am trying to walk the fine line between like "Beauty and the Beast" cartoony violence/recovery and realistic 18/19th century violence/recovery. So, if things turn out just a bit too miraculous know that I'm playing with a children's movie/cartoon.
> 
> And now .... The Easter Eggs:
> 
> \- Title: Olaf says this to Anna and Kristoff when his head is upside down in Frozen. 
> 
> \- Got a Beauty and the Beast song reference in "he wonders why he’d never seen that there before" -- Lyric "I wonder why I never saw that there before?" 
> 
> \- Did you catch the Olaf reference at the end? I bet you did. I bet you did. (You may now stick me with pitchforks)


	5. Good Riddance to Crabby Wives

When Belle sees LeFou fall, her immediate reaction is to pull him into her lap and protect him from anything else that might try to hurt him. However, he begins falling backwards so she helps Adam guide LeFou into his lap to prevent further jostling and movement. 

She helps Stanley remove his petticoat which they decide to drape over LeFou as a blanket. Adam shakes LeFou’s shoulder a little, but it doesn’t help stir him back to consciousness. 

Belle calls his name softly, but he doesn’t stir. She gently strokes his hair, and settles on trying to make him comfortable. “It’s alight ‘Tienne. We’ve got you. We’re not leaving you, sweetheart.” She plays with his hair.

Meanwhile, Stanley moves to sit near LeFou’s feet while Belle remains next to Adam.

She’s not sure if she wants the rest of the townsfolk and staff to remain distracted so they don’t crowd him, or if the three of them need their help and they should call them over. Adam casts her a glance that asks the same question. In the end, they decide purely through facial expressions that crowding him would be worse. For, if LeFou were to suddenly wake up, a large crowd of people would disorient him more. 

With that decided, Stanley begins helping Adam turn LeFou over onto his right side, and then the pair work to remove the navy blue coat. Stanley discovers a large section near the left pocket is slightly darker than the rest of the fabric and it’s damp. He pulls his hand away and sees blood coating his fingers. He is shocked.

How long had he been hiding this from them? 

Belle is unaware of what the two men are seeing, as she has concerned herself with making sure that LeFou remains calm if he wakes up as Adam and Stanely examine him. 

Adam and Stanley see the cut as they remove the coat. LeFou’s shirt is clinging to the wound, and it’s soaked with blood. They find that the wound itself is not that deep, or at least, they hope it’s not. But, Adam knows that since LeFou lost consciousness anything is possible. 

Regardless, both Adam and Stanley know that the injury is deep enough to cause fairly substantial bleeding. Stanley looks terrified, and Adam springs to attention and puts pressure on the wound. Belle, upon noticing the open gash, sets LeFou’s head on the ground gently. She moves to bend his knees while helping his legs up onto Stanley’s lap. 

“Elevating his legs will help stop the bleeding faster, and that will allow us to see how deep the wound really is,” she explains in response to Stanley's confused expression. 

“Wouldn’t lying him on his back be more comfortable for him if he’s got to lie down like this?” Stanley knits his eyebrows in fear and confusion. He knows he’s helping, but selfishly he wants to be sitting nearer his friend’s head to provide more immediate comfort and relief. 

“It’s too dangerous,” Adam explains, “He might choke and … that’s really dangerous.” 

Belle places a hand on Stanley’s shoulder. “He’s right. If ‘Tiennesick again, we might cause him more pain helping him than if we keep him lying on his side like this.” 

Stanley’s beginning to understand. Still, he feels compelled to ask, “Can he … can he hear us?” 

“Oh I’m certain he can.” Belle gave Stanley’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “He’s just … it’s like he’s sleeping but too deeply to wake up. When we can give his side some stitches and stop the bleeding he should be more alert, but he’ll need a lot of rest, and a lot of care. But, for now, he’s just exhausted. It’s kind of like when you have too much to drink and you fall into a deep sleep. He just exhausted, and now he needs to rest.” 

Belle wishes her father was here. He would simultaneously help everyone remain calm, and actually be useful. He also was a great comfort to her when she was ill as a young child. He sat by her bedside through ever childhood illness she could imagine. He read to her, and sang. He told her stories and held her hair. She likes to think that her papa would know exactly what to do because in that moment she knows she’s in over her head. 

Stanley understands what Belle told him, and he sees how passing out drunk and this injury might be related. However, somehow he feels he would be more comfortable if LeFou's fainting was alcohol induced. At least then, he thinks, he might have a hope of understanding how to help. He’s seen Tom and Dick like that enough times to have a basic understanding of what to do. But this, this is new to him. 

Adam finds that he will never cease to be amazed by Belle’s compassion. She explains things to Stanley in ways he never could. He turns his attention back to Étienne’s sleeping form. He heard some calling him what was it … The Fool? What a horrid nickname. He’s sure the awful hunter who refused to acknowledge his own humanity in his beastly form came up with it. He presses down with more force as the blood flow begins to stop. He knows that more force will help, and this is where he can be most useful right now. 

“We need a stretcher, and to get people to leave. He needs to get better medical attention as soon as possible or we’ll lose him,” Adam whispers as Belle rejoins him. 

Belle puts her head on his shoulder to prevent Stanley or LeFou from hearing her. “I don’t know what Lumière did with the stretcher after we used it, but yes, we need it. Lumière or Cogsworth will know where it is. They won’t crowd too terribly now.” She gives a cursory glance over her shoulder. “Most people besides our friends have left.” 

Adam really doesn’t want to damper the happiness of his lovely family, and, while he doesn’t know much about interacting with people, he knows that the death of this young man on the steps of his castle would be far worse than disrupting them briefly. 

“Lumière!” Adam shouts from his post. 

The former candelabra and all of the other servants spring to attention at their master’s call. Well, all except Cogsworth, who is fighting with a crotchety old woman whom Lumière remembers is Cogsworth’s wife. He believes her name is Clothilde, but to be honest, he didn’t really remember anything about her. However, he does seem to recall that she was obnoxious. 

Mrs. Potts moves first, and she relieves Stanley by placing LeFou’s legs onto her knees. She lovingly pats LeFou's knee, and she shoos Stanley away with a mother’s grace. She doesn’t want him to see any more of the gruesome sight than he already has. She knows that there are worse things to come in this healing process, and she is prepared for them. She readies herself for helping Cogsworth put in stitches because that will be a nasty business. Mrs. Potts also observes in that quick glance at Stanley that he looks frightened enough at this point. She’s seen her fair share of illness and injury, for the passing of Adam’s mother had not been pleasant. She sees Adam’s eyebrows knit in concentration, and she longs to wrap all of these children in her open and loving arms. For, she knows she has plenty of room as Chip has confessed to her more than once that he would like nothing more than siblings. 

Belle gently places a hand against LeFou’s forehead. She shudders when she finds his brow cold and covered in a thin layer of sweat. She realizes he’s probably in shock and the sooner they can move him to a warm bedroom with a real blanket and not a petticoat the better. She knows too that the longer he’s outside the more they risk infection. 

Lumière kneels at Adam’s side, and gives Belle’s shoulder a slight squeeze to announce his presence. “Yes Master? What do you require?”

“Find the stretcher from my room. It should still be there from when we had Philippe pull me up the stairs after the wolves attacked.”

Lumière nods and rushes off to fetch it. Maestro Cadenza follows him up the stairs to help him carry it, and Lumière gives him a smile to announce his thanks.

The other servants and Mme Garderobe stand near by to help if needed. Mr. Potts and Chip offer to take Belle back to the village to retrieve her father. Mr. Potts explains that Maurice would probably like to be here to help if he can. Belle agrees, and knows that her father would greatly desire to be here.

Stanley helps her up, and for a moment he realizes that she looks lost. He pulls her into a tight embrace, and lets her rest her head on his shoulder. She is stunned by this small act of kindness for she barely knows him. Both Stanley and LeFou have surprised her for they are so different from Gaston. She wonders why she never saw the way they looked uncomfortable around him before. She finds herself ashamed at how easy it was to assume that they were just like him even when it’s clear that LeFou and Stanley were caught in the social standards of their little village in the same way she was. She, LeFou, Stanley, Adam, and her father she recognizes, in that instant, are more alike than she ever imagined.

Mr. Potts offers Belle his arm, and she takes it with a smile. Chip grabs her hand, and looks up at her with his wide brown eyes. 

Belle gives Adam one last glance, and he gives her a tight and nervous smile. He looks caught between overwhelmed, frustrated, and scared. She blows him a kiss and turns to go with Mr. Potts back to Villeneuve.

Adam has to smile at her small gesture that seems to say simply: it's okay. I know you can handle it.He feels, for a moment, that she has far too much confidence in him. 

Belle discovers that the other villagers, with the exception of Stanley and Clothilde, have already departed. Belle also notices, as they leave, that Cogsworth is still fighting with Clothilde. She is not surprised because Clothilde never ran out of things to say. Colthilde always had something to complain about, and she always hated Belle. Cogsworth, while stuffy, always treated her with intellectual respect and care. Belle loves that about him. He seems to tread the line between caring and responsible so well. Belle wonders for a moment if he could teach her how to do that.

She then begins to pick up bits and pieces of Clothilde’s and Cogsworth’sconversation, and she decides that she does not like what she hears. 

“Surely you can’t expect me to be too concerned!” Clothilde insists, “It is after all prescribed in the Bible, the _Holy_ Book, the _Good_ News, that he dies. It’s for the best, and you know this. So, as head of household, you ought to command they stop in the name of all that is good and holy.” 

Cogsworth seems to fume and appears ready to lose his temper. “I will help him if I can you vile woman. You claim to be so very in love with your conservative and _virtuous_ ways. Learn your place then! Or move forward with the times!” He yells gruffly. 

“You’re supporting sin then. He in himself _is_ _sin_!” She screams in hysterics. 

“Watch your tongue and get behind me!” Cogsworth hollers ever louder. 

All of Cogsworth’s colleagues, Belle, and Mr. Potts are staring at the pair. Chip looks ready to cry. So, Belle kneels down and pulls him close to her. 

“Will she hurt him?” Chip asks Belle innocently. 

Belle gives him a soft pained look, “No. M. Adam will not allow it. I don’t think.” 

“And the silly man who saved Maman from shattering … we won’t really let him die will we?” Chip cries. “He saved Maman and me! Please, Mlle. We won’t listen will we? How can he sin? What has he done?”

“Nothing I haven’t already done.” Belle wipes a tear from Chip’s cheek. 

And then, she looks over at M. Jean. And, she has to laugh because M. Jean is again completely oblivious to his surroundings. Apparently, he was scatterbrained even before the curse. And she smiles, for, she thinks, it’s nice to know that some things never change even in this chaos. 

And now, now, Adam remembers. He recalls Clothilde and why he forced her away from his head of household. He remembers why Cogsworth became so uptight, and why Lumière was constantly trying to pull Cogsworth out of himself. Everything clicks into place in an instant. 

Clothilde eventually just leaves Cogsworth standing there. 

“If you will support him even though that sodomite fool is throughly damned. Then I want no part of you! Remember, mon cher, _I_ am what saves _you_ from eternal damnation not the other way around!” 

Belle’s eyes widen slowly. Her breath catches as the woman stomps her foot and leaves Cogsworth behind. She almost swears she sees the grumpy head of household mouth “good riddance” as he makes a face filled with sadness, anger, and a hint of joy when the vile woman departs. 

“What is a sodomite?” Chip asks. 

Belle looks ready to answer when Mr. Potts shakes his head. 

“Well, lots of drama,” Mr. Potts tries to chuckle and distract his son from the question.He rubs the back of his head through his fluffy hair. “Let’s find your father now, yeah? Poor old man. He felt terrible for pulling the little fool into this. But, how were we to know?” 

Chip wants an answer. What linked Belle and ‘Tienne? He wondered. Was it love? Maman had mentioned Belle and M. Adam found something there that wasn’t there before. Could that be what made Maman put up with Papa’s lack of focus? Or what allowed Papa to find Maman fun even when she wouldn’t let him explore? Perhaps, LeFou could fall in love with beasts just like Belle. But, why wasn’t Belle called that word then? He would have to ask Lumière. Lumière and Plumette would tell him. If he pouted long enough, they always did.

Belle expresses her agreement with M. Jean through a sharp nod. 

She agrees, how was her father to know that LeFou found more to love in men than women? She excuses her father, she pardons LeFou, and feels awful for Stanley.But, she can’t find it in herself to pardon anyone else. Her father was desperate, LeFou was terrified, and Stanley was just so horribly and desperately confused. But to her, everyone else was just one of Gaston’s sheep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're starting to introduce more characters. I wanted to highlight some of Adam, Belle, and Stanley's perspectives here, so we've gone deeper inside their heads. 
> 
> I'm quite fond of following one character's thought process at a time, so when you see me layering three paragraphs at a time to describe a reaction that's why. 
> 
> Chip was fun to write. I didn't really think about having him in here at first, and then I decided after the last read of this chapter before I posted this to add him in. Something was missing, and I felt like Chip's perspective was missing. I really wanted to highlight him because Mrs. Potts mentions him in reference to all the young adults in this chapter. So, I thought it might be beneficial to actually have him in the chapter. Also, I want Chip to really interact with Maurice. I missed him as the stow away in Belle's purse that we see in the 1991 film, and this was my way of rectifying that. I hope he added something because he certainly did for me. 
> 
> Also, spacey Jean the Potter is my life. I just couldn't help but feel like he was that way before the curse and would be even after. 
> 
> This chapter and the next one will put emphasis on characters other than LeFou. So, bare with me because Étienne's will be back as a central character. However, I think we ought to move Maurice out of the village first. So, that's what you can expect in the next chapter. 
> 
> Also, would you guys kill me if I fudged a publication date? One of my favorite French novels wasn't published till 1831, but I really wanna put it in because I love it. Bonus points if someone guesses what it is. 
> 
> lbbuff you can't guess because you're my partner and probably already know. So :P 
> 
> Easter Eggs:
> 
> So, I couldn't really get references in this time which is why you don't see them. 
> 
> Though, I did quote the bible verse "Get behind me Satan" in a way. 
> 
> So ... maybe that counts? You tell me.


	6. The Innocence of Tea Cups

Maurice sits on his front porch talking with Monsieur D'arque for hours. Maurice discovers that the elderly man does in fact have children, but most of them are quite grown up and have families of their own. 

Maurice can hardly believe that one of Monsieur D’arque's sons left with the Marquis de Lafayette and fought in the American Revolution only to take a fancy to an American girl and remain there. So, Monsieur D'arque hasn’t seen his eldest son since the fall of 1777. His son was about twenty when he left Paris, and currently has three children of his own at the age of forty-three. 

The two of them laugh about the antics of free-spirited young adults, and Maurice even finds that the elderly asylum keeper can bring his voice to something other than a deadpan. It’s shocking at first, but, as they get to talking, it becomes more normal and more expected.

It is nearly daybreak when Monsieur D'arque decides to head home. He leaves with a smile, “You’re far more … lucid than they took you for.” 

Maurice laughs and says, “Well, I was surprised that you could speak above a deadpan, old friend. Your laugh is far more lively than your tone of voice has a tendency to convey.” 

“You’ve been lovely company. Thank you. When you work with … uh … my clientele … people don’t talk to you much. Wish we could change it really.” 

“Duly noted.” Maurice closes the door behind Monsieur D'arque and makes a mental note to invite him to dinner someday. 

He can hardly imagine not seeing his beloved child for twenty three years. Monsieur D'arque had shown Maurice a pocket sized portrait his son had sent him. It had begun to fade slightly, and Monsieur D'arque asked if Maurice could make him a replica. Maurice simply told him he would see what he could do. Even this simple gesture had sent Monsieur D'arque over the moon with excitement at the prospect. 

Maurice smiles at the idea of doing something so out of his comfort zone. He hasn’t been challenged artistically in a long while. For, most of what he did in the village was make things to sell in other villages that had a higher appreciation for art. He recalls when he took the job painting the mural of Gaston. 

He took the job mostly for something to do. He remembers adding a little detail that few people seemed to notice. LeFou. He put the young war hero’s batman in the corner. He wonders why he did it because, now, he’s honestly not sure. 

Maurice falls asleep thinking about painting. He wakes up to a light tapping on his door. A few seconds later it’s followed by a louder banging, and the loud bang is followed by a loud “Shhhhh….” 

He laughs, and when he opens the door his smile grows exponentially for Belle and a little boy are waiting outside his door. 

“Belle!” He wraps her up in his arms. 

“M. Belle’s Papa,” Chip stamps his little foot, “My name is Chip. I was a tea cup. I know that sounds weird, but I thought I would tell you anyway. But, M. Belle’s Papa, the real matter of importance is that Belle’s friend M. ‘Tienne is in big trouble! The scary hunter in the red coat hurt him, and he fell asleep on M. Adam’s lap this morning on the stairs. I don’t know why, but he did that. Then Cogsworth’s scary wife told us that we shouldn’t help him because he was a sod-sodimite? I think that’s how you say it. I don’t know what that is M. Belle’s Papa. But, we could use your help. So, I know I scared you. I know it was silly of me to move as a tea cup when all you wanted was some dinner, but will you come back and help us? Will you come back to the castle? He saved my maman M., please?” 

Maurice looks at Belle with concern, and then tries to process everything. Who was Cogsworth? The tea cup had a mother? What did he mean Étienne was injured by Gaston? All of this was summarized by: “Why don’t we come inside a moment?” 

Chip agrees that this would be a good idea. “Is it so you can pack your underwear? Maman said once back when I was really small that you should always bring a few extra pairs.”

Maurice bites his lip to conceal a laugh. “Now, can either of you explain more about what happened to my young friend?” 

“Chip, do you mind if I clarify some of the details of your story?” Belle asks. 

Chip nods, and stares at all the beautiful music boxes around the room. “M. did you make these? They’re so beautiful.” 

“I did make them, thank you.” Maurice smiles at the boy’s intense curiosity.

“Is that your Maman?” Chip asks looking at the wall. “She’s very pretty. So was M. Adam’s Maman. But, no one is as lovely or pretty as mine. Even when she was a teapot. She was still my favorite Maman.” 

Belle and Maurice both press fingers to their mouths trying to suppress tears and laughter. It had been so long since either of them had met someone so innocent. 

“So, what happened?” Maurice asked Belle pulling Chip into his lap. 

“Well,” Belle begins. “I don’t think anyone is really sure. Le …. Étienne,” she catches herself, “offered to distract Gaston for me so that I could find Adam. However, I sort of got lost among the crumbling hallways. So, whatever time was bought for me I didn’t get much of. I did manage to find Adam, the Beast,” she clarifies. “And, I told him Gaston was coming for us. I explained the situation as best I could before Gaston separated us. He threw me away from Adam, and then proceeded to hunt Adam all through out the castle. He died. Well, Adam’s beast form died, and then Agathe … well she sort of resurrected him to be honest. But, Gaston … he fell to his death.”

Maurice closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m sure it was his own fault?” 

“Oh it was, but it was terrifying to hear none the less. Then, Adam and I came running from the room to find everyone human as they should be.” She smiles at Chip who is nodding his approval at each turn of the story. 

“But then, Stanley came running over to me. You remember the sweet little thing that used to chase Tom and Dick around everywhere?” 

Maurice thinks for a moment and then nods. Yes, he remembers him as a tall dark haired young man around Belle’s age. He was so much younger than Tom and Dick and the rest of their company. 

“Stanley rushes over to Adam and I and … he tries to explain to us that he’s certain something’s wrong. So, we sort of gracefully excuse ourselves and let everyone else remain distracted. When I saw him Papa … my word, he looked like a ghost. He was so confused I don’t think he recognized me.” 

“What happened?” Maurice presses. 

“Gaston had stabbed him. We weren’t sure at the time if it had hit anything vital or what had happened. But, all we knew is that it was far lower than the lungs, and somewhat near his back.” 

Chip nods emphatically. “He got sick a few times too.” 

“The pain must have been excruciating,” Maurice whispers. 

“Will you come back with us?” Chip asks.

“Of course I will.” Maurice lifts Chip off his lap, and onto the floor. 

He goes to grab a few things and puts them in his trunk. He goes over to a drawer and opens it. He finds some of Belle’s old things from when she was a child, and he lifts out an old stuffed bear. He packs that away in his trunk for no real reason.

Around this time, M. Jean knocks on the door. “Are you ready to leave?” 

Belle and Chip nod as Maurice clicks the trunk closed.

They make for the castle in M. Jean’s cart, and somehow, the trip is quicker than Maurice remembers. 

Upon arriving, Maurice notices Stanley, in a dress of all things, sitting near Adam. The entire staff, save Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth, seem to be waiting for them. Maurice sits down next to Stanley while Belle goes over to Lumière. 

“How is he?” Belle asks Lumière. 

“He’s in a fairly bad way. Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts are seeing to him now, Mlle. We carried him up the stairs to your old room. You’ll be staying near Plumette and Mme Garderobe now.”

She gives him a half-hearted smile. “How far will that be from him? I want to help if I can.” 

“Well, it’s near by your old room, but a little further down the hall.” 

“Good.” Her smile brightens slightly. 

Maurice notices that Adam’s hands are more than slightly bloodstained, and that Stanley’s expression is mostly vacant. 

“They’re giving him stitches,” Stanley mutters to no one in particular, “And we had no idea.” 

Maurice pats Stanley’s shoulder. “It’s alright. He’s strong.” 

“But, why don’t we ever notice?” Stanley asks. “Why is he always hiding in plain sight?” 

Maurice opens his mouth only to close it because he doesn’t really have a comforting answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I haven't update for a few days. So, put the pitchforks down and hear me out. ;) 
> 
> I had fifteen pages of a novel that I'm writing due for workshop by tonight at 5:00. I've also been a little under the weather myself lately, and I helped a friend move yesterday. The move was only supposed to take a few hours, but it ended up being more like five. So, I've been all over everywhere these last few days. I should have a more regular schedule this week, so hopefully everything will run more smoothly here on out. 
> 
> I do have the next chapter pretty clean so expect that tomorrow evening. 
> 
> Easter Eggs:  
> I'm a Revolutionary War junky so I had to make a reference to it. I knew I could get away with it because based on the clothing I predicted this movie to be happening around 1800. M. D'arque seemed old enough to have a son in his forties. Thus, the headcanon was born.


	7. It's a Dangerous Business

Adam, the rest of his household, and Stanley eventually manage to move LeFou into a bedroom in the east wing of the castle. Adam decides Maurice, Stanley, and Lumière would sleep in rooms near by LeFou’s bedroom to act as aids to whomever was helping LeFou during the night. 

They had also volunteered. 

Adam decides to move Belle’s room nearer to Plumette's and Mme Garderobe’s rooms since they would no longer be a wardrobe and feather duster with easy access to her room. So, without the close proximity given their now human forms, neither would be able to help her dress for occasions or provide company. Adam chooses to place Mrs. Potts' and Cogsworth's rooms about half way in between LeFou's room and Belle's. For, Adam also realizes, Maurice, Mrs. Potts, and Cogsworth will likely be able to provide more assistance to his new friend than any of the rest of them. Lumière and Stanley, however, will be able to provide comfort in ways few others would be capable of doing. Selfishly, he wants Belle nearest to him, and thus, close to the west wing of the castle. Thus, she may be far away from LeFou's bedroom, but she would be no further away than Adam himself. Therefore, Adam finds his new room assignments satisfactory. 

Lumière and Stanley help LeFou lie down on the soft mattress in his new chambers. There’s a moment of relief for everyone in the room when LeFou’s eyebrows knit together as they set him down, and yet, his eyes remain closed. The slight contortion of LeFou’s face is almost all they have to ensure that he is still alive. Well, that, and the occasional rise and fall of his chest. 

Mrs. Potts asks everyone except Cogsworth to leave shortly after they situate the young man and make him as comfortable as they possibly can. She doesn’t want the whole castle crowding as she and Cogsworth begin the more intense parts of his care. She knows that this will likely be painful for all involved, and she finds herself feeling a foreboding malaise that LeFou’s recovery will be quite slow. 

Cogsworth pats her shoulder, and asks her to sit near LeFou’s head just incase he should wake in the process of cleaning and stitching the wound. 

Cogsworth carefully examines the injury. He notices that the wound is far too low to have pierced the lung, diaphragm, or any known organ that would help the boy breathe. He knew that a collapsed lung would have consumed the young man quicker than the symptoms he was presenting, and so Cogsworth had assumed that organs involving breathing were unaffected. He thanked every deity above that he’d been correct. In fact, when he pulls away the shirt and looks closer it’s far nearer to the young man’s hip than the base of his rib cage. 

He pulls off the shirt completely, and notices another scar on the man’s stomach. He vaguely wonders if he’s seeing correctly when he notices that the scar is in the shape of human teeth. He realizes that must have been painful to receive, and vaguely recalls Stanley mentioning to them that LeFou was Gaston’s batman in the army. Cogsworth shudders for a moment. He recalls his own “glory days” and working with other blood thirsty Captain’s who treated their batmen like … pardon his French … absolute shit. He wonders if it’s not the God-forsaken hunter’s mark of ownership. He regrets there was no one around to treat it, or else it might not have scared so badly. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in, and begins examining the wound in LeFou’s side again. 

He looks over the exact placement of the wound, and tries to see if the colon has been damaged. It’s at the right angle, and, with the right knife, Gaston could have pierced it. He once again thanks every higher power he can find in his lexicon that the knife was just slightly too short to enter the bowls or other parts of the abdominal cavity. Or at least, so far as he can see at the moment, nothing in the abdominal cavity has been effected. Cogswroth never really trusts himself in these matters as his eyesight is less than perfect now, but the wound seems to only have effected the fat tissue and nothing else.He knows that fat can be fairly vascular, but his young patient’s arteries and veins also still seem to be intact and working. The substantial bleeding seems to have come more from the damage to the skin that was severed as opposed to any internal damage. Cogsworth feels slightly bad for thinking about how LeFou is lucky for his stocky stature because it well may have saved his life. 

He remains concerned; however, as he recalls that the young man rode through the snow and chill to get to the castle. He reminds himself mentally to keep an eye out for infection. For, if he was already weakened by the cold, the wound has a greater chance of infection. Cogsworth is also aware that illness, depression, and other ailments may also try to consume LeFou in his weakened state. He’s well aware that any open wound poses the possibility for infection, but with the nature of the blade used he’s even more concerned. Cogsworth presumed based on the length and width of the blade that it was a pairing knife used for deer carcasses which, even with proper cleaning, could carry the risk of infection with them. 

So, Cogsworth dips a cloth into a basin of cooled water, and gently wipes down the injury. He notices that the wound’s redness is already spreading slightly up the young man’s side, so he takes extra care to wash out any debris that may have collected. He makes a mental note that they all should be watching for fever as early as this evening given the state of affairs. He feels an ominous sense of dread seize him as he recalls what Stanley told him of the previous day’s events. The state of mind the young man before him was placed in troubles him greatly, for he knows from experience, that the body can be greatly impacted by the mind. 

And again, not for the first time, Cogsworth is concerned about that bite. He knows there’s a story in there somewhere, but given the nature of how it scarred it might not be a pleasant one. 

Then, he dips the cloth back into the bowl and cleans the flesh more deeply. The crimson blood and some drainage from the fatty tissue stain the white cloth in his hand, but he knows that he must remove any bits of dust and dirt that he can. So, he reenters the wound a third time, and only then is he satisfied. 

LeFou lets out a soft whimper in response to the rag pressing against and into the open flesh. Mrs. Potts can’t help but smile when she thinks about how well this young man is handling this part of his treatment. Adam had just roared. And, she finds that she has laugh as she realizes that could be interpreted both literally and figuratively. 

But, her thoughts move back to her charge as she gently runs her fingers through the young man’s hair. She works through some of the tangles and knots in LeFou’s locks, and soothingly makes her presence known. 

Cogsworth heats a needle, and threads it with his dexterous fingers. He hands Mrs. Potts a rag which she gently tires to coax into between LeFou’s teeth. 

“Sweetheart,” she whispers, “Come on. This is going to make this at least bearable, poppet.” 

Mrs. Potts softly rubs his cheek with the back of her fingers, and his jaw opens a little. His eyes flutter, but he doesn’t open them. But, she helps the cloth into his open jaw. She pushes his hair back again. “We’re gonna make this as quick as we can, sweetheart. I promise.” 

She readies herself to hold down his shoulders as Cogsworth begins stitching up the wound.

LeFou’s eyes shoot open as soon as the needle enters through his skin, and comes out to create the first stitch. The second time the sensation occurs he bites down hard on the thick piece of cloth between his teeth. He clenches his fists tightly in response to the hot pain in his side. 

Tears roll down his cheeks as Mrs. Potts calmly whispers into his ear. “Hush, hush, shhh … it’ll be over soon, poppet. I promise it’ll be over soon.” She rubs his shoulder as she holds him down. 

LeFou’s head snaps back against the pillows as Cogsworth makes the third stitch. Cogsworth thinks he’ll only have to put in eight sutures, but he can’t be sure there may be as many as eleven required because of the length and depth of the wound. 

LeFou tries to cry out when the fourth and fifth stitches go in. He squeezes one of Mrs. Potts’ hands until his knuckles are white. She holds his head back against the pillows by pushing lightly against his forehead with her palm. He groans biting hard against the cloth as tears continue rolling down his cheeks. LeFou doubts he’s ever felt this kind of agony before in his life. 

The deepest part of the puncture is at the place where Cogsworth plans to put in the sixth and seventh stitches, and it takes all of Cogsworth’s hardened military and medical background not to shake when the agonized cry escapes his young patient’s lips. The place where he plans to insert the next few sutures is by far the reddest and most tender spot he’s come across, and if Cogsworth couldn’t see that, then, LeFou’s screams of agony would have told him. Cogsworth comes to the sinking realization that he’ll actually need to put in three more stitches, and so, he tries to make them speedy but accurate. 

After Cogsworth has finished, Mrs. Potts helps prop LeFou up on some pillows, and she notices he looks like he’s slightly more alert than when they began this process. She, therefore, takes the opportunity to offer him a glass of water. He nods his acceptance, and she gently guides it to his lips. She pets his hair as he takes a few small and hesitant sips. He hiccups and looks like he might be sick for a moment. Both she and Cogsworth had already been prepared for this long before they even began the process of suturing the wound. 

Cogsworth takes a knee, and holds back LeFou’s hair a soft “Easy, my boy” escaping his lips. Mrs. Potts has a small basin ready just in case, and puts a hand on his knee. They both stand ready as LeFou’s breathing evens out, and he manages to keep down the water. Mrs. Potts even gets him to take a little more. She holds the cup with him, and steadies it when his hands shake. He manages to take three more small sips before he pushes it away. 

Cogsworth gives Mrs. Potts a look of gratitude, and he adjusts LeFou’s hair gently around the young man’s shoulders. He gets up to get bandages knowing that the upright angle will make bandaging the wound much easier than if they had to hold LeFou up. He wraps the sewn up wound with bandages in an effort to keep it clean and stop any remaining bleeding. He’s sure to put pressure on the wound to staunch any blood flow that may still try to seep out from the injury as it heals. He gives LeFou’s hand a squeeze as he gets up. 

“I’m assuming you would like to sit with him first?” Cogsworth makes for the door. 

“I would.” She swipes LeFou’s sweaty bangs from his forehead. 

LeFou is still half alert as Mrs. Potts takes a cool cloth and wipes the sweat from his temples and hair line. He reaches out to hold her hand again as he sags against the pillow. He tries to mumble out a soft “ _Merci_ ,” but he can’t quite form the words. However, Mrs. Potts seems to understand when she places a soft hand on his shoulder whispering “ _Il n'y a pas de quoi, petit_.”

He gives a small exhausted smile as the pain begins to abate.

“Send the other boy in. The one in the dress, but tell him he’s either got to change into a fresh dress that’s more practical or into anything else because that giant thing cannot be comfortable.” She pauses for a soft laugh from Cogsworth, “When he wakes up, I’m sure they’ll want to see each other,” she says as she continues to wipe sweat from LeFou’s brow. 

Cogsworth nods his agreement. 

“It’s good she left. You do know that surely?” She tells him more than she asks him. 

He laughs, “Yes. Yes, my dear, I thought she’d never go.” 

Mrs. Potts smiles sadly and shakes her head. “Not all of us are so lucky as Mme and Maestro, or myself and Mr. Potts. I just hope somehow his story ends more happily than yours.”

Cogsworth pauses, and smiles sadly to himself. He walks to stand near the sleeping man and his colleague. He takes a few steps forward to LeFou’s bedside, and gently pulls the left corner of the blankets up closer to LeFou’s chin. Then, he kneels down and leans forward to place a soft kiss on LeFou’s sweat soaked temple. 

“You have to make it, if only for me. Prove an older and more foolish fool wrong.” He pats LeFou’s shoulder gently. “Now, sleep easy.” 

Mrs. Potts smiles to herself and laughs. She turns to LeFou’s sleeping form and whispers, “It’s all an act, poppet. I’ve known that for a long time.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, you're getting to see my French usage come out. I studied French conversation, literature, and poetry for a little more or less than eight years now.
> 
> I still do rely quite heavily on WordReference.com (shameless plug because it is literally better than any dictionary out there, and it's endorsed by most college professors, as in, in my French Conversation class last semester my professor told us to have it up on our phones at all times during class). 
> 
> So, without further tangents, I have a .... 
> 
> Translation List: 
> 
> Merci - Thank you. 
> 
> Il n'y a pas de quoi - You're Welcome (literally: it was nothing). 
> 
> Petit is generally used both as an adjective and a term of endearment. It is literally the adjective "little." The "female form" would be spelled "petite" (which is where we get the name of the sizing). However, petit and petite are pronounced differently. Petit is pronounced pet-TEE, where as, petite is pronounced pet-TEE-t. The silent "e" at the end of words in French usually means that they are female forms of a male adjective and that the final consonant is then pronounced. 
> 
> Other common terms of endearment I'll probably have people use at some point are: 
> 
> "Cher" which means dear 
> 
> "Ange" which means angel. 
> 
> "Bijou" which means jewel. 
> 
> I'll let you know in the end notes what they mean again. You don't have to memorize them. 
> 
> Other Fun Facts about French Grammar:
> 
> The form of "you're welcome" I used is the most formal version. "Pas de probleme" is the familiar form of "you're welcome," and "de rien" is the formal form of "your welcome" that is most often used. "De rien" literally means "of nothing." 
> 
> The reason I used the form "Il n'y a pas de quoi" is because Mrs. Potts is English. So, I figured her French might be a little bit more formal as foreign speakers often are. I was foreign exchange student for a week about four years ago in France (Tours), and I learned very quickly (as in within like 48 hours) that you sound weird and foreign if you use the most formal forms of French with your host siblings and people who are like four to five years younger than you. 
> 
> So, I hope you enjoyed the French grammar lesson! This is not where I expected the notes to go, but I think in these next few chapters the "Easter Egg" section will likely be more about translations of French than anything else. I don't have a French class this semester, and I sort of miss speaking and writing in it. I now have an excuse to. 
> 
> The Title is an Ester Egg; however, it comes from Bilbo Baggins' famous phrase "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door." The Hobbit reference applies because both Ian McKellen and Luke Evans starred in The Hobbit movies. 
> 
> Ian McKellen is the voice of Cogsworth, but played Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit films. Luke Evans is Gaston, but played the loving father of three and dragon slayer Bard the Bowman in the Hobbit films. So, if you want to see Luke Evans be a total sweetheart and badass dad watch The Hobbit. :D 
> 
> Again, this note got really long and kind of off topic, but, as you can see, I'm full of fun facts with no one to give them too so please take them. 
> 
> Cheers All,  
> Pip


	8. Good Luck, Bad Luck, or Something in Between

Stanley takes Cogsworth’s orders to heart, and puts on his usual umber vest with fresh pants. He admits that this is outfit is much less cumbersome than the full hoop skirt complete with petticoats and delicate lace. However, he finds that burning inside him there is something comforting about that cumbersome dress. No one laughed, and Mrs. Potts had even said, according to Cogsworth, that he only had to put on a less cumbersome dress. 

Maybe, he thinks, that’s what was most surprising. It’s surprising that no one laughed. For in Villeneuve, his scarf and feathers had earned him countless taunts, and, as far as he’s concerned, a scarf and feathers were hardly the same thing as a dress. 

Stanley finds himself longing for a dress like Belle’s. He recalls that she always found ways to prevent them from stopping her from doing the tasks of daily living. But, almost as soon as that thought passes through his mind, he is facing LeFou’s door. 

He readies himself and pushes the door open. “Cogsworth said you requested I come, or … well, that you said I _could_ come in anyway.” 

Mrs. Potts can’t help but notice that Stanley looks flustered.She smiles for a moment, and beckons him in. He really is a sweet young lad, she thinks, as he nervously flops down on the windowsill to the left of LeFou’s bedside. 

She begins to think about these beautiful young people in her presence. It’s been so long since people M. Adam’s age had even stepped foot in this castle. Belle, Adam, LeFou, and Stanley must all be around the same age, she muses. For, Belle appears to be only a year or so younger than Stanley. Stanley might be a bit younger, she thinks, than the boy she’s caring for. All the same, her heart swells with happiness. She can’t help but recall that it had been so long since her Master even had prospects of friends his own age. 

She wonders if, with Belle, Stanley, and LeFou, M. Adam might find people to converse with and relate to. She hopes that he’ll find, in these two other young people, peers to call his close friends and confidants. She thinks it best he find someone to confide in other than just Belle as M. has obviously chosen to kindle … ahem … a stronger bond with the young woman.

She hears a soft whimper coming from LeFou’s direction. So, she turns her attention from her motherly musings back to him. She gives his shoulder a soft and reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s alright now, poppet. You’re safe now. Don’t cry.” She whispers smoothing back his hair. 

The whimpering doesn’t stop despite her encouragement. His eyes flutter slightly, but they don’t open. He shivers a little under the blankets, and he reaches out a hand aimlessly in Stanley’s direction. 

Stanley takes LeFou’s hand and drops to a knee beside him. “Étienne. ‘Tienne, hush. _C’est ça va_. _C’est ça va, mon ami. C’est bien. C’est bien, cher._ ”

It takes a minute, but the soft whimpers eventually stop. Mrs. Potts wonders what caused the out burst. She briefly wonders if the bandages are too tight, or if the stitches are still bothering him, but thinks that all should be fine. After all, she helped Cogsworth with the bandaging and made sure it was tight enough to protect against further bleeding, but loose enough that it should be comfortable. She's concerned, and so she makes it her mission to insure that he’s well looked after. And, thus, that he doesn’t develop a fever. That would certainly be a set back, and perhaps a fatal one.She can’t help but think that they’ve been lucky so far. She just hopes that luck doesn’t run out any time soon. 

Cogsworth informed her privately the that blade missed a large artery by inches, and if his arteries had been damaged it would have been almost impossible to save him. She thanks the good Lord above for His kindness, and, in a way, she considers it God’s gesture to prove Clothilde’s backwards ways wrong. 

Maurice pushes open the door to LeFou’s room. “I had to see him,” Maurice states with his heart in his throat. “Belle, ah, explained to me that the curse was lifted, but that my young friend was in poor condition. It was confirmed when everyone was waiting downstairs saying he was getting stitches.” Maurice shifts awkwardly. “I wanted to come and see him for myself to ensure he was being well looked after. He attempted to save my life at the expense of his own.” 

Mrs. Potts shakes her head as a sad smile crosses her features. “It’s become something of a hobby of his.” 

Stanley might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so serious. Instead, he just smiles down at his friend’s sleeping form. He tries to convey the message to him through a face that holds all the light scolding Maurice and Mrs. Potts are exchanging. LeFou certainly couldn’t see Stanley’s face, but it didn’t stop him from making it.

“I’ll let him rest then.” Maurice turns to leave. 

However, Mrs. Potts pats the spot where she had just been sitting as if reading Maurice’s mind.

Maurice walks over to LeFou’s bedside. He leans in and whispers softly, “Thank you for everything you’ve done. Because, you certainly could have just kept yourself safe. Not a soul would have judged you for protecting yourself. Well, some might have, but I certainly would not. It was absolutely clear in his features that that beastly man would do something to hurt you. But, still, you saved my life, and, from what many members of the household have told me, you saved several others. So, if it’s within my power, and, if I can, I’ll speak for everyone in this house by saying I promise we will keep you safe.” 

He presses his forehead to LeFou’s, and then gently drops a kiss on the young man’s forehead. 

The room settles into stillness and silence, and then, after about a half-hour of peace and quiet, Mrs. Potts walks across the room to Stanley. 

“Come down stairs with me.” Mrs. Potts offers Stanley a hand up. “We should let your friend rest, and give him some privacy. We’ll come check on him and change his bandages after dinner. I’ve had Cogsworth and Lumière tell the cook try to prepare him something simple, so we’ll wake him up when that’s ready.”

Maurice looks to them and says, “I’ll stay. We can trade places in an hour. Or, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit up with him tonight. It’s not wise to leave him completely alone these next few days.” 

Mrs. Potts nods her approval, and she is grateful for Maurice’s presence. For, she wants Stanley to get something to eat; however, she knows he won’t leave until she does.

Stanley doesn’t want to go, because he’s worried something might happen to LeFou in his absence. All the same, he accepts Mrs. Potts’ invitation, but not before running his finger through his friend’s hair. He makes sure everything is situated just so as he closes the curtains to make it easier for his friend to rest. He knows the dark and quiet will be appreciated after the long and hard day. 

Maurice notices that Stanley looks concerned and frightened. So, he whispers, “I’ll send someone to tell you both if anything changes.” 

Stanley wraps his arms tightly around Maurice who reassures him by rubbing his back with two soft circles and then pats his shoulder. 

Mrs. Potts finds herself immensely grateful for Maurice’s presence. She lets him comfort Stanley while she bids a quick goodnight to her stellar patient. “Goodnight, poppet. Sleep well, you deserve at least that much.” Mrs. Potts places a kiss on LeFou’s cheek before leaving with Stanley. 

She swears she sees a ghost of a smile cross LeFou’s face. Good. He deserves the pampering. He may not think so, but if he tries to fight it she promises she’ll be there with an arsenal of motherly love. 

Maurice lights the single candle on the dresser, and pulls up the chair sitting in the corner of the room.Somehow, he knows this will be a long night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's been a day ... BUT at long last here is the next installment!
> 
> Also, these next two are kind of short. I could have put them together, but then they would have been obnoxiously long. As in more than 2,000 words long ... so I figured no one would have the patience for that, and I'm not that pretentious. So, enjoy a bit of lighter reading over the course of the next few days. I can tell you by Saturday things are going to really pick up, that is, if I don't decide to divide some of the longer chapters up a little. I have a couple written now that are real long ones that I might try to divide up a little, but I'm not sure how. 
> 
> So, if you can't tell, I'll reveal my trade secret. I have approximately five chapters pre-written at time which is why my updates are so regular. So, there is a method to all of my madness I assure you. 
> 
> Do you know that the hardest part of this is coming up with good titles for the chapters? Like that seems like the easy part, but it's actually not. Some of them write themselves or set themselves up, but some of them are really hard to come up with. 
> 
> Now that brings up a poll I wanted to do. I will know how many chapters there will be in this fic within the next week or so probably. Would you like me to reveal how many chapters there will be BEFORE I end the fic, or would you like to wait and be surprised at its completion? I mean, regardless, you'll probably know when it's winding down. But, I'll leave that up to you. 
> 
> Translations:
> 
> C’est ça va. - It's okay. 
> 
> Mon ami. - My friend
> 
> C’est bien. - It's good. 
> 
> Cher - Dear. 
> 
> These phrases so far have been pretty simple, but I want to get in the habit of translating the French because I have a future chapter written in which a large portion of the dialogue is in French. (Lumière-centric chapter for fans of that). I don't think that waiting until the end of the chapter to translate will impede anyone's comprehension of the chapter, however, I will definitely want to remember to translate for you since there is a lot of sort of weird vocabulary in it. 
> 
> In other words, I'm not trying to condescend to you. I do figure most people know that mon ami means friend. However, I want to get into the habit, for myself, of translating everything or I might forget to translate "J’ai peur du noir" and other phrases that have a slightly less intuitive structure than that phrase. (It's the only phrase I could use as an example that if you decided to translate it yourself wouldn't give away something vital). 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	9. British Literature, or the Chapter in which the Author Forgets the Characters Live in France

Maurice pulls out a sketch book and begins to doodle. He’s not sure exactly what he’s drawing, but he needs something to do with his hands while he is on observation duty. He looks up from his sketches every once in a while to make sure nothing has disturbed LeFou’s sleep.

It’s not long before Stanley and Mrs. Potts return with a little dinner for LeFou who, for the first time that day, looks peaceful. His chest rises and falls slowly and easily, and thus, Mrs. Potts almost doesn’t want to wake him. 

All the same, she kneels down and shakes LeFou’s shoulder a little. She smiles as his eyes flutter open. 

“Hello, dearest, how are you feeling?” She asks as Maurice and Stanley help prop him up further on the pillow. 

LeFou smiles sleepily, and manages a soft “Fine.”

“Well, I suppose that’s about as well as can be expected given the circumstances?” She gently pushes back his hair. He doesn’t feel any warmer than she’d expect, but she knows they still have to wait until the wound is fully healed before they’re in clear waters.

“Do you feel up to eating anything, _cher_?” Stanley asks patting LeFou’s knee.

LeFou closes his eyes. The true answer is no. Absolutely not. But, he knows he should try. “Not really, but I’ll try.” 

Mrs. Potts gently rubs his shoulder. “That’s all we can expect, poppet.” 

LeFou can’t help but be slightly confused by all of the fondling and general care. He finds himself shocked because never in his life has he received this much attention even when he was ill. He has lived alone most of his life, and Gaston certainly would never bother with him when he was in a state like this. He finds it a bit overwhelming for a moment, but it is nice. He’s touched really. It may confuse him, he thinks, but anything is better than being alone. 

Stanley hands the bowl of simple broth over to Mrs. Potts who helps him take a few sips. He only manages about a quarter of it before he’s half asleep again. Mrs. Potts just smiles and places a kiss on his temple. 

“Would you like me to trade places with you?” Mrs. Potts asks Maurice after LeFou falls asleep. 

“No. I’d still like to spend the night with him. Who else is near by if I should need someone to fetch Cogsworth in the middle of the night?” He asks quietly so not to scare Stanley. 

“Myself, Mr. Potts, and Chip are all in the same room. It is the large one down the hall.” She points straight down the east wing. “But, Lumière is in the room next door. If you think you need to wake Stanley as well, he’s next door to Lumière.” 

“I doubt I’d need to do that. My plan is to let Stanley rest the night unless the world is truly ending. So, that all sounds easy enough,” Maurice says. 

“Good,” she gives Maurice’s shoulder a gentle grip. “You’re doing well. You’ve done this before?” 

“Yes. Some ended in sadness, and others were just nature running its course.” He muses mostly to himself. 

Mrs. Potts seems to understand the gravity of the statement. Belle had told her what happened to her mother the night that she and Adam visited her childhood home. She gives Maurice’s shoulder one last squeeze before she goes to Stanley’s side.

“Come on now. We ought to go off to bed. Maurice will stay with him tonight.” She leads Stanley, who is half-asleep on his feet, out the door. 

Maurice watches them leave the room again, and then turns back to his doodling. The door creaks open and his daughter enters. 

“I saw Mrs. Potts and Stanley leaving. I thought since you were sitting up you might like to read something. I’ve brought a few books that Adam thought you might like. I’d highly recommend _Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table,_ though, Adam did say he loved _Beowulf_ at one time. But, uh … life experience may have changed his mind about how he … ahem … views the story.” 

Maurice quirks an eyebrow. He might have to read it, if only so he can hear Adam’s take on it. 

“He has his own version if you’d ever like to hear it. It’s quite funny, and sad.” She sets the books on the dresser. 

“Thank you my dear, but does M. Adam have a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets per chance?” He raises his eyebrow even further with a smile. 

She quirks her eyebrow. “Yes he does. What do you have in mind?” 

“If I recall correctly, there is a particular sonnet or two in which M. Shakespeare addresses a young male lover, or so it seems when you read them with the right glasses so to speak.” He winks. 

She realizes what her father is insinuating and immediately approves. “I’ll bring it tomorrow. Adam hates _Romeo and Juliet_ , for stupid reasons in my opinion, but he does love the sonnets so very much. I’m sure he would love to join in your, ah … little plot.” 

“Ah … he is a man of fine and good taste then.” Maurice thinks out loud. 

“Yes. He is sorry, you know? He was just sad, lonely, and very angry. He didn’t know how to express that until he was taught how.” She shakes her head sadly. “He had no one Papa. No one at all. In the whole world he felt all alone. And …” 

“It’s what your mother would have done. It’s what she would have wanted for you.” He pats her hand. 

She stands, and hugs him. 

“Well, I certainly have plenty to occupy myself with now. Thank you, darling.” He laughs giving her hand a squeeze as she departs. 

Maurice looks back at the sleeping young man. A small but peaceful smile has spread across LeFou’s features, and, not for the first time, Maurice notices how young and vulnerable he looks. 

He opens _King Arthur_ , and listens to the measured and easy breathing of the sleeping young man near him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers! I've decided to relieve all of your angst with some touches of fluff. Yay fluff! Not much to say on this chapter other than you can see that my Brit Lit specialty is showing. 
> 
> This chapter is quite brief so I might post chapter 10 later this evening or give you two tomorrow since these few have been a little on the shorter side. 
> 
> On my end, life has been pretty uneventful since the craziness of yesterday. So yeah ... enjoy the chapter! 
> 
> Easter Eggs (Sort of):
> 
> All of the books I referenced technically come from England. Hence the title. 
> 
> Belle references Adam's take on Beowulf which was my sad attempt at referencing the novel "Grendel" by John Gardner. It is Beowulf told from Grendel's perspective. I highly recommend it. It's quite good. 
> 
> Sonnet 20 is the sonnet referenced. I might actually include it in full or part later, but if you're curious that's the sonnet Maurice is thinking of.


	10. Not All is Clear

Maurice had been dozing for maybe an hour when he is startled awake by someone crying. He looks over at LeFou who is thrashing slightly and softly whimpering. So, Maurice moves from the chair to kneel at LeFou’s side to try to calm him down. He had figured something like this would happen considering the past days events. So, he brings the candle over so LeFou will be able to see him. 

Maurice notices the high color in LeFou’s cheeks once he brings the light a little closer to LeFou. He quickly rests the back of his hand against LeFou’s forehead. The fever is low, but its definitely present. 

Maurice looks to see if there’s any cool water to soothe the fever, but, seeing nothing, he elects to leave the room for Lumière’s chambers. 

Maurice knocks on the other man’s door, and Lumière looks concerned to see Maurice there at this time of night. It’s just slightly past midnight if Lumière recalls correctly. 

The two men simply have to share a glance before Lumière is off to wake Cogsworth, and Maurice is headed back to LeFou’s side. 

He reenters the room to find the whimpering slightly louder and more desperate. Maurice can make out a few words like “I’m scared” and “I’m cold,” and for a moment Maurice feels his heart break. He can’t do much at this point. So, he settles on pulling the covers up over the young man’s shoulders to try and stop his shivering. 

LeFou lets out a soft groan because everything hurts. He tries to form words, but his mouth is too dry. Then he feels someone’s hand rest against his forehead, and he leans into the gentle touch. He wonders who the soft hand belongs to, but he can’t will his eyes open. 

“Help is on the way,” Maurice whispers. “Don’t worry now. You’re safe.” 

It only takes that to stop the soft cries, and so, Maurice continues his reassuringwords while gently stroking LeFou’s forehead with his thumb. He knows that keeping LeFou calm until Cogsworth and Lumière bring supplies to try and fight the fever is all he can do for now. For all Maurice knows, the slight fever might be normal, but he doesn’t exactly know. He reassures himself that Cogsworth will be able to either reassure him or set it right. 

Maurice turns his head as Cogsworth and Lumière enter with a few wash cloths and a small basin of cool water. 

“Has he been sick?” Cogsworth presses desperately as he lays a hand on LeFou’s forehead.

Maurice shakes his head. “No.” 

“He doesn’t feel too hot, but I’m still uncomfortable with this,” Cogsworth mutters under his breath. This is not a step in the right direction. 

Cogsworth then sets about taking a damp cloth and wiping LeFou’s forehead, and then he folds the cloth and leaves it rest in the same place. He moves to pull the covers away, and he shoos both Maurice and Lumière out of his way as he unwraps the bandages. 

He places the back of his hand against the now sutured wound, and curses when it is in fact slightly warm to the touch. He’s thankful it’s not hot, but, again, these are the wrong steps. He takes some water and cleanses the stitches which elicits a sharp intake of breath from his patient. 

“It’s alright, my boy, I’m just cleaning.” He whispers patting LeFou’s hand. “I promise I’m not putting in anymore stitches.” 

Cogsworth looks up at LeFou, and he stares into those scared wide eyes. He watches as LeFou visibly relaxes at the confirmation that no more stitches are going in, and Cogsworth smiles. He replaces the old bandages with new ones and gently slides the covers back up. Cogsworth rests a hand against LeFou’s forehead again after removing the cloth. He seems slightly cooler, but not much. 

“I’m going to have to keep an eye on you,” Cogsworth says as LeFou’s eyes meet his again. “You’ll likely be seeing a lot of me even though we don’t know each other all that well yet. We will soon, hm? My name is Henry Cogsworth — head of house hold. Now, who are you, and do not give me that silly nickname that followed you around that God-forsaken village.”

LeFou almost laughs at the older man’s to-the-point demeanor. “Étienne Lefevre, at your service. I’d bow, but as you can see I’m a bit preoccupied.” 

Both of them give each other smiles filled with barely contained laughter. Cogsworth is happy to see that some of LeFou’s sweet but off-color sense of humor has made some sort of return. He can tell that LeFou’s voice is weak, and that alone betrays that he’s still unwell. Yet, Cogsworth can see how it would be easy for LeFou to hide any sort of pain behind his wit. But, despite the return of LeFou’s sense of humor, he is still concerned about the high coloring and slightly feverish glaze in LeFou’s eyes. 

“Try to get some rest now,” he says, “You’ll likely see me soon enough to talk with you. But, I’m afraid this might set you back some time if it gets any worse.” 

Cogsworth doesn’t want to hide the truth from the young man before him, who, he observes, is still almost a child in some ways. However, Cogsworth has to laugh at himself, for truly, everyone seems like a child to him. He’s grown quite old, he thinks. But, he doubts that will stop him. He’s finally a free man. He’s not a clock, and he’s not in Clothilde’s suffocating grasp. He’s free, and that is enough to give him all the energy of a spry seventeen year old. 

LeFou looks at the elderly gentleman before him and smiles. He trusts him, and, for some reason, a part of him doesn’t mind the set back. It doesn’t seem so dangerous right now. Set back, to him, translates to sleep. He just wants to sleep, and so he closes his eyes listening to the soft murmurs going around the room. What is a set back would be heading back to his home alone in Villeneuve. He’s not suicidal by any means, and he certainly doesn’t want to make this any worse for anyone else. But, sleep and people who care about him sound a lot better than being alone with yet another scar from Gaston. 

Lumière has to smile because he hasn’t seen Cogsworth so in his element in a long time. He heads off to his chambers knowing that both Maurice and Cogsworth are well equipped to deal with LeFou for now. Someone will be back to get him if he’s needed. 

Cogsworth watches LeFou fall back to sleep, and takes a deep breath. “He’s responsive. That’s good. We may have caught this early enough, but it’s too early to tell that for certain. We should all practice constant vigilance over the next few days. I’m afraid his fever might spike tonight even. Do you mind the company?” Cogsworth asks Maurice with quickly softening features. 

Maurice smiles, and pulls up another chair. “Not at all old chap,” he laughs, “Not at all.” 

It’s five in the morning when Cogsworth is satisfied that the fever will not spike tonight. He is concerned; however, for, LeFou’s temperature remained consistent throughout the night. It wasn’t a high enough fever to be dangerous by any stretch of the imagination. But, in his opinion, any fever at all was cause for at least some concern. Maurice is dozing in the chair, and LeFou is fast asleep against the pillows. Cogsworth takes a fresh cloth, and gently wets LeFou’s dry lips. He’s hoping they can get more water into him later perhaps in the afternoon. But, for now, he thinks, this has to be good enough. 

Cogsworth replaces the cool compress one more time before he readies himself to go. He notices the young man is paler and his cheeks are slightly more rosy than earlier in the evening. He knits his eyebrows together. Adam and Stanley had offered to sit with him through the morning, and into the afternoon. He supposes that will be good. Stanley will have some company to distract him, and Adam knows what to do in an emergency. Adam also mentioned he had “plans” for his and Stanley’s activities throughout that time. 

Cogsworth shakes his head with a smile whatever Adam had planned he was certain it will be most interesting. He chuckles for “interesting” is the operative word.

He closes the door silently, and makes a mental note to tell Mrs. Potts that they should leave LeFou to rest through the morning. They’ll try to wake him for lunch later that afternoon, but they need to get him to drink something probably even more than eat something should they be forced to choose. 

He walks back to his chambers and closes the door. He can’t shake the feeling that something is about to go wrong. He thinks back to Lumière’s comment about the broken clock being right but two times a day, and so, he hopes that this is one of the times this mental clock is wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did decide to post one more before I go to bed because I'm trying to speed this along a little. 
> 
> In other news, my roommate and I were watching this anime together and it did a genre swap in episode 12 and we're both dead. Like we're both choking on our laughter. I'll put this out here a man turned into a gorilla with a guillotine stomach and some ghostly figure just called himself the Torture. The gorilla began chopping off people's heads through his stomach, the ghost appeared, and then the episode just ended. We laughing so hard that my housemate is on the floor as I am typing this. 
> 
> So, yeah the episode was so weird. It was like a crack!fic gone wrong. 
> 
> But anyway, things are getting a little more tense in this chapter. But, just so people know low grade fevers are normal when wounds are healing, but considering Cogsworth was a military doctor and no one else in the castle has any real medical training overreacting would be pretty normal. 
> 
> Looking forward to revealing exactly what Adam has planned tomorrow I think people are really going to like that. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	11. Do Not Disturb the Master: Artist at Work

Adam and Stanley relieve Maurice at about eight in the morning. Maurice gives them a smile and heads back to his room with a slight knot in his neck. 

Stanley comes over to him and says, “I can fix that if you want.” 

Maurice raises an eyebrow. “Sure, if you want to try.” 

“‘Tienne’s better at it than me, but I’ll give it a go.” Stanley pops the joint back into place gently. 

“Thank you. Did he …” Maurice points to LeFou.

“Yup. He’s quicker about it. I’m still working on making it fast. Yours wasn’t too big or tight, or else, going that slow would have made it pretty painful.” 

Maurice smiles, and discovers yet another thing he never knew about LeFou. 

“You seem to know a lot about him. Were you close?” Maurice asks. 

Adam is half listening. He sets to work unpacking a bag filled with Mme Garderobe’s makeup. She taught him to do his when he was a teenager. He feels its finally time to return the favor. However, he had been planning to ask Maurice’s question, and if the answer is painful he doesn’t want Stanley to have to answer twice. 

“Not exactly. I mean. We had similar groups of friends, but not exactly the same ones. Tom and Dick were really my closest friends. We shared an apartment, and, considering we were all technically bar security on one night or another, it just made sense. You know? They had a few other friends who hung out at the tavern with us. But, you know, Gaston was sort of … he would kind of isolate ‘Tienne. He kept him away from everyone else. No one really understood why, and yet, Gaston knew everyone, so we all sort of knew “Tienne.”

Maurice takes a breath in. “So, how did you find out his name and his occupation and the like?” 

“‘Tienne would talk about his occupation sometimes, but Gaston told everyone after the war that ‘Tienne was _his_ batman. Emphasis on his. That’s how I learned that fact about him really, but his name I only learned when he told me. I think, I think he’d had a particularly bad day, and when I asked him what was on his mind it just sort of came out in the conversation. I’m really the only person in town, so far as I know, who uses it. But really, all I know is his name and occupation. He is pretty private actually, but most people wouldn’t really think that. No one ever _really_ knew him. Except all of us knew as children that he was raised by his uncle who was also a batman in one of the big wars. He taught ‘Tienne to be one for the next Captain in our city. Every once in a great while, Tom, Dick, and I would pass by his house and they would shake their heads because everyone knew the man was an angry drunk. No one really knew where ‘Tienne came from before he came to Villeneuve, or what happened to his family to ensure that he would end up with this particular relative.” 

Maurice shudders. He vaguely recalls the man, but Stanley is right, he never recalled seeing LeFou out with the other children. He barely recalls seeing him ever until the boy’s uncle passed when he was eighteen, and then he’d enlisted as Captain Gaston’s batman. Maurice remembers that LeFou remained quiet after the war, and that the young man seemed to remain attached to Gaston. That is until now. 

Maurice seems to recall that the war lasted maybe a year at most. It was only … one or two years ago that the war ended. So, Maurice thinks, if he does his math right LeFou can’t be older than twenty or twenty-one. Maurice isn’t exactly surprised, but at the same time he is. Belle will be twenty this November, he thinks, therefore, they might even be the same age. 

After he thinks through the information Stanley gives him, he asks, “How old are you Stanley?” 

“I’m a year younger than ‘Tienne. I’m twenty. It’s why I escaped enlisting.” Stanley looks at the floor sadly. “I was just a bit too young. When we talked, ‘Tienne said that he was happy I never had to see war.” 

Maurice nods. So, Stanley is Belle’s age. He smiles. He never realized these young men were so much younger than Gaston and the rest of the town. For, he knew, Gaston was in his late twenties, at least, when Maurice first met him. He supposed he just sort of assumed that all of Gaston’s company was the same age. 

“Thank you, Stanley. I suppose Belle and I secluded ourselves so far from our fellows that I had no idea you and Étienne were so close to Belle’s age,” Maurice laughs giving Stanley a pat on the shoulder. “Now. I’ll leave you two to whatever you have planned, and I am off to get breakfast.” 

Adam smiles his body covering his surprise. “So, you’re twenty? Twenty was not exactly my favorite year of life. First anniversary as a beast. Not exactly what you want at twenty.” 

Stanley quirks an eyebrow, but senses Adam’s sarcasm. “Yeah. Probably not.” 

The two of them bite back soft giggles. 

“I’m older than both of you, you know? I’m twenty-five.” Adam laughs. “I’m so used to being one of the youngest people in the castle. It’s weird to think of myself as the oldest among any group of people. Because, for awhile, Chip was the only one younger than me. And, let’s face it, he’s five.” 

“You obviously didn’t have too much company,” Stanley remarks.

“I mean I did. But not really, Lumière and Plumette were around, but sadly even Lumière is almost ten years older than me. And Plumemette, though close to my age, took a liking to him quickly. They are … ah … quite infatuated with one another.” 

At this, Adam and Stanley share a laugh because “infatuated” didn’t seem to quite cover the extent of Lumière and Plumette’s feelings for one another. 

Adam gives Stanley’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “Sit in the chair. I have a surprise for you. It’s just a little something to pass the time with, and you’ll look lovely if Étienne wakes up.” 

Stanley quirks an eyebrow at Adam who reveals an entire countertop full of makeup.

Stanley is speechless. He puts a hand over his mouth, and he finds that he’s so overwhelmed that tears prick his eyes.

“I noticed how much you enjoyed the mascara the other day, and I thought I would teach you. My court always used to wear shadows including myself. Mme leant me some of her makeup … you hate it.” 

Stanley is crying now. “No-no … I just. No one’s ever …” 

Adam’s expression changes from embarrassed to one of clarity. He’d never been good with emotions or facial expressions and his father’s methods of teaching really had not helped. 

“Oh. So you do want me to try this?” Adam asks rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. 

“Yes! _Mon_ _Dieu_ yes!” Stanley grins and pulls Adam into a tight hug. “Please!” 

Stanley plops into the chair and closes his eyes. 

“Keep them open a moment will you. I want to see what shade I should use.” Adam kneels and looks at Stanley’s skin tone and eye color to see how close to a perfect match they can find. He might have to call in an order for new makeup after all these years. 

Stanley’s eyes are a sort of play off of hazel Adam notices. They’re a mix of brown, but with flex of green. Adam smiles for Mme has once again come through for her “beautiful boy.” He takes a brush and begins applying a dark purple, almost an indigo, color shadow to the outermost part of Stanley’s lid. He smiles to himself as he puts more shadow on the brush and softly mirrors his work on the other side. He then takes an light aquamarine color onto his makeup brush and applies it to the innermost part of the lid on both eyes. He sticks his tongue out in concentration as he begins the fun part. He dips a smaller brush in a bronze-gold liquid and begins painting little designs starting just above Stanley’s upper lashes all the way down his cheeks. 

After he’s finished, Adam hands Stanley a mirror. 

Stanley gazes at his reflection and hardly recognizes himself. He touches the glass admiring little hand painted roses that trail from the edge of his eyes all the way down to his fuzzy beard. 

“Where did you learn again?” Stanley asks. 

“Mme Garderobe and Plumette. They used to practice on me until my father stopped them. But, when I threw parties of my own … well … fashion changed.” Adam shrugs. “Plumette used to prepare me for the balls I would throw here. I never had anyone to makeup. She and Mme always did my makeup for me.” 

Stanley grins. He never would have guessed Adam was so like him nor would he have guessed that Adam was so … flamboyant wasn’t the right word … indifferent to the cultural norms of Villeneuve. 

They don’t realize it’s almost one in the afternoon until their stomachs are growling, and Lumière and Plumette poke their heads in to relieve them. 

Lumière is the first to smile when he sees Adam and Stanley huddled together swapping secrets at the window. He sees Adam’s handiwork on Stanley’s eyes, and can’t help but find himself impressed. 

Plumette is holding a glass of water, and another little bowl of simple broth. She shakes her head while smiling, and kneels down next to LeFou’s side.

She stroke’s his cheek with her fingers. “Come on, sweetheart. We let you sleep in this morning. Come on. We have to try and keep your strength up.” 

Adam and Stanley help Lumière sit LeFou up on the pillows. 

The first thing Lumière thinks is that the poor young man would probably want someone to help shave him soon. He takes the cool compress off LeFou’s forehead, and gently places a hand where it had been. He furrows his eyebrows because, while there is no change, that means the fever is still there. 

LeFou opens his eyes, but quickly shuts them. The room is bright with the afternoon sun, and the last time he’d opened his eyes the brightest thing in the room had been a candle. His eyes adjust after a few minutes. He sees Lumière and Plumette on his right side and Adam and … Stanley? on his left. Stanley looks beautiful with stunning blues around his greenish brown eyes, and the gold detailing on his cheeks. LeFou wonders if he’s flush enough that Stanley won’t see him blushing. 

Plumette draws LeFou’s attention back to her, “Do you think you can eat something?” 

Again, he really doesn’t want to, but he offers to make the effort. The simple soup goes down fairly easy, but it doesn’t sit well in his stomach. But, he takes deep breaths and tries to swallow. 

She stops after she helps him to take about a quarter of the bowl. He looks exhausted, and Cogsworth told them both they have to get him to drink. 

“Mon ami, would you like some water?” Lumière prompts. 

LeFou nods a little. That is one thing he does want. 

Somehow, between the four of them, they manage to convince him to take the water slowly. 

He falls back to sleep almost immediately after drinking nearly all of the water from the glass. 

Adam and Stanley sneak out as Lumière and Plumette settle into their vigil. They would be relieved by Mme Garderobe, Maestro Cadenza, and Froufrou, of course, later that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My notes have to be quick because I have lots of classes this afternoon/evening, but I wanted to post this before midnight. 
> 
> So I give you a break from the craziness of our plot to bring you Adam and Stanley fluff! YAY! 
> 
> I really wanted to write this, and I was sort of planning on making it a one-shot. Then I had a moment of clarity, it would be really cute to put it here. So I did. 
> 
> No real Easter Eggs in this chapter sorry folks. :( 
> 
> But, anyway we're getting to know a little bit more about Étienne and his past. More of that to come mes amis. More of that to come.
> 
> Also Mon Dieu means God. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	12. Pardon My French

LeFou looks around trying to figure out where he is, and why he’s so small compared to the large house he finds himself. Somewhere inside him, he recognizes it. He looks around the long narrow hallway that is lit by a single window just above his head. He sees the papered walls, and runs his hand along the rough and familiar textures. 

He knows this house. 

It takes him a moment, but he realizes that this is his childhood home.

But, if this is his childhood home how did he get here? 

He walks quietly down the long hallway, and then he stops abruptly. 

He knows this door. 

It is tall and wooden.

He runs his hand over the knots in the door, and he seems to recall that, at one time in his life, the sweet smells of his maman's perfume would blossom into this hallway. She would sing while she brushed her hair in the morning, and the large heavy doors would open. The sweet scents and sweeter sounds would be released, and he would be allowed to enter. He recalls the off-white walls with the little pink flowers on the paper. 

This door was a safe door.

This room was a safe room.

He remembers it now. 

This is the door to maman’s room. 

So, he instinctively tries to push open the door, but it won’t open.

It's locked. 

The door to maman’s room was never locked. 

Fear begins to creep around his heart, but he remains calm. There may be a good reason for the locked door. 

So, he resolves to try to get maman's attention. 

He knocks lightly, and yet, no one comes to answer. 

So then, he settles on calling out to his maman. “ _Maman! Maman, Où es-toi? Tu es là, Maman? S’il te plait, viens ici!_ ”

He waits outside the door for a long time. He stands there for so long that the small window in the hallway no longer sends any light into the cramped passage. He realizes that the sun is setting. Suddenly, the darkness of the hallway seems to want to crush him. 

He calls out again, “ _Maman, tu es là? Viens ici! J’ai peur du noir, Maman.”_

There is still no answer from the other side of the wooden door, and his heart quickly finds its way into his throat. The hallway has vanished into complete darkness, and he can see nothing but the huge wooden door in front of him. He blinks quickly for it didn’t seem quite that large before.

He pounds on it screaming, “ _S’il te plait, Maman! Ouvrir la porte! Le noir est grand, et j’ai peur!”_

Once more, he’s left outside the large door in the dark. There are no signs of it opening, and his panic increases. He remains in the darkness, but suddenly the door cracks open. He pushes it full force and manages to squeeze in through the opening. He finds himself in his mother’s room, but it is dark. The blinds are drawn across her windows, and he cannot see the off-white wall paper with the little pink flowers. The room smells like sickness and rotting flesh while a single candle burns on his maman's night stand. 

He hardly notices the tall figures around the poster bed as his eyes are drawn to the prone figure of his mother coughing into a handkerchief. 

He tries to take a step forward, but as he does the large shadowed black figures cover his maman from view. 

“ _Les vautours_ …” He sees them hovering over his maman. 

They are wearing their long black leathery wings that loop large around their wrists. The heavy cloaks extend almost past their big claws. He sees them put bottles on the dresser, and he holds his breath when two of the biggest _vautours_ descend on his maman. He’s confused he doesn’t know how many of these large birds there are, or if in the end there’s only one who’s moving quickly. The bird or the birds press something onto her forehead, and _les vautours_ force something into his maman’s mouth that makes her cough and gag. 

He’s certain there must be more than _un_ _vautour_ hovering around his maman like the harbingers of death the stories make them to be. 

So, he stands frozen in place. He can’t move to save her from the scary birds that are as tall as men. He tries to scream and cry out to distract them from hurting her, only to find that he has no voice at all. His mouth has gone dry, and he’s shaking in fear of the birds. He sees the candle light glinting off their silver beaks, and making the dark pits of their eyes even darker. 

He finds the courage in himself to step forward. 

The floorboard creaks under his foot.

Suddenly, one of _les vautours_ hovers over him with its long beaks almost poking his forehead. “You must go. Get out of here. _C’est un fou_? _Vas-toi, le fou_.”

The birdlike creature lifts him up and tosses him onto the floor of the hallway. _Les vautours_ force him out of the room despite his cries. He tries to pull away, but he can’t. They keep calling him a foolish child, but they won’t tell him why he can’t see his maman. 

No one will tell him anything. 

They won’t tell him about the black spots on her face, or why everyone has to leave the house except Cosette. They pull him away from her as he tries to cling to his last lifeline in this life. She stays with maman while they pull him away. She lays next to maman and she cries listless for him. But, he is powerless to do anything because _les vautours_ call him a foolish child and send him to his father. 

He is on his knees in the yard in front of his house. He sees the cart pull up beside the drive. He asks his papa what is going on, but his papa ignores him. 

His father tells him it’s his fault. “All your fault. God punishes us because of _you_.” 

LeFou asks him why, and the answer he receives leaves a wound inside him that never heals.

“Because _you_ kissed a boy behind the house you foolish boy. God punished this family as he punished Sodom and Gomorra because of _you_. Your mother and Cosette are dead because of _you_!” He slaps him across the face, and drags him into the cart. 

The the house fades from his view. LeFou can see the ghosts of his maman and Cosette rising out of the windows screaming. They ask him why he had to kiss the boy behind the house. They asked him why their love wasn’t enough. He curls into the cart crying. 

He’s waiting for _les_ _vautours._

But, he resolves if he’s at fault, that he must make it back to maman and Cosette. Or else, he thinks, maman and Cosette will be left with no one but _les vautours_ , and so he tries to jump out of the cart and run back. 

However, he is stuck in the cart. 

He can’t get out of the seat. 

He can’t get back. 

She’s gone forever, and he can’t get back. 

******

“ _Merde_. _Pute_!” Lumière curses under his breath. 

This is bad. They all seemed to know LeFou would spike a fever at some point, but why did it have to happen now? He and Plumette were hardly expecting this. Lumière wants to help, but he has no idea what to do. So, he curses under his breath because for the moment that’s all he can do. 

“ _Pute_!” He curses again when he realizes Plumette left for help leaving him alone with  LeFou. 

He knows this is a good thing because they would have been in over their heads on their own. However, it’s taking all he has to keep the poor thing calm enough not to tear the sutures. He gently pushes LeFou back down towards the pillows when the younger man lets out a terrified whimper. He keeps a gentle but firm hold against LeFou’s shoulder as the younger man cries and tries to reach out towards some invisible assailant.

Lumière finds himself wishing Cogsworth would just magically appear right now in front of him floating over his shoulder telling him what to do. Because, that’s just so likely to happen.

So, until help arrives, he murmurs soothing words and gently removes and replaces the soothing cool cloth on LeFou’s brow. 

The fever must have spiked no more than fifteen minutes to a half hour ago. Yet, Lumière finds that it feels much longer. 

They discovered that it had spiked because LeFou began calling out and crying in his sleep. For a single moment, he looked so peaceful, and almost in the blink of an eye he was so frightened. 

He finds; however, that Plumette must have made quick work of leaving for help as his wish has somehow been granted. 

Cogsworth, Maurice, and Mrs. Potts enter the room following Plumette. Mrs. Potts stands behind Plumette who is next to Cogworth where Lumière used to be. Lumière moves to stand behind Maurice. Maurice kneels near the side of the bed opposite Cogsworth. 

“Étienne? ‘Tienne? _Réveilles-toi, cher. C’est un cauchemar, mon ange. Réveilles-toi,”_ Plumette whispers. 

 ********

LeFou hears someone calling his name. “Étienne? ‘Tienne? _Réveilles-toi, cher. C’est un cauchemar, mon ange. Réveilles-toi.”_

It’s a woman’s voice, but he doesn’t recognize it.

He turns towards it, but there’s no one there. 

******

Lumière gently pats LeFou’s knee whispering “Étienne? _Reviens-toi à nous, petit._ ”

******

Then he hears his name again. “Étienne? _Reviens-toi à nous, petit._ ” 

It’s a man’s voice, but he doesn’t recognize it. 

He turns towards it, but there’s no one there.

******

“Étienne, come back, sweetheart,” Mrs. Potts murmurs as she helps Cogsworth adjust the cold compresses around LeFou’s neck. 

“It’s just a nightmare, son.” Maurice pets LeFou’s hair. 

******

“ _Mais_ , _l_ _es vautours …”_ LeFou tries to explain, but he doesn’t know if the voices can hear him.

******

Cogsworth raises an eyebrow and looks to Lumière and Plumette who have situated themselves at the foot of the bed. Both of them look equally confused. 

“There are no vultures, my boy, just open your eyes,” Cogswoth coaxes.

******

LeFou reaches out towards the voices, and someone takes his hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay ... French heavy chapter, and formatting this was hard because towards the end I'm flipping back and forth between reality and non-reality. So I debated putting asterisks in between the breaks and decided to go with that. I hope it wasn't too distracting. 
> 
> This chapter was meant to be a bit trippy, so sorry if you felt a little confused. I really wanted to get you into the character's brain-space. I hope I succeeded. I promise the narrative will find its traction again, but I can't say there won't be a few more chapters like this one where you fade in and out of reality.
> 
> Also I realized that having LeFou outside a giant door that won't open is like a really dark horror version of Frozen, and I'm sorry for telling you that. But, you had to share my pain because writing it that was all I could think of. 
> 
> In other news, I'm a little early on today's chapter because I'm going to formal tonight. :D So, if there are any grammar mistakes and the like I didn't have as much time to edit this guy before it went up. 
> 
> Translations: 
> 
> Maman! Maman - this is literally the French equivalent of "Mommy" or "Mama" 
> 
> Tu/toi/te are all informal meant for family and friends otherwise you would use the "vous" form. 
> 
> Où es-toi? - Where are you?
> 
> Tu es là, Maman? - Are you there, Mommy?
> 
> S’il te plait, viens ici! - Please, come here!
> 
> Viens ici! - Come here! 
> 
> J’ai peur du noir, Maman - I'm afraid of the dark, Mommy!
> 
> S’il te plait, Maman! - Please, Mommy!
> 
> Ouvrir la porte! - Open the door!
> 
> Le noir est grand, et j’ai peur! - The darkness is big, and I'm afraid. 
> 
> Mais - But (Like the article) 
> 
> Les vautours - the vultures. (Cogsworth does translate this at the end of the chapter, but I just wanted to make sure you got it since it comes up in the next chapter as well.) 
> 
> Merde. - Shit. 
> 
> Pute! - Okay, this gets it own line because this word is used like "F*ck." But, the word "pute" actually means, prostitute. It's the shorter version of Putain which again literally translates to whore, but both are used like f*ck would be in English. This is where the chapter title comes from. 
> 
> Réveilles-toi, cher. C’est un cauchemar, mon ange. Réveilles-toi. -
> 
> “Reviens-toi à nous, petit. - (Not actually sure if the grammar is right on this one) - It's meant to say return to us. But, in the command sentence structure I wasn't sure how to add the "to us." So, I did my best.
> 
> I think I translated all the sentences that were in French for you, but if I missed anything please don't hesitate to let me know and I'll put it up here. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	13. I Remember Everyone that Leaves

LeFou’s hand is taken by Maurice who saves it from slamming into the dresser on the right side of the bed. Maurice strokes LeFou’s white knuckles with his thumb as LeFou squeezes his hand for comfort. 

“You two should go,” Cogsworth says to Lumière and Plumette. “Thank you. You’ve done and seen enough.” 

The couple is huddled in each other’s arms at the foot of the bed with Lumière’s head tucked under Plumette’s chin. They both stand looking at him for a moment before they depart from the room. 

Mrs. Potts gives Cogsworth’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving up nearer the headboard on the left side of the bed. 

LeFou whimpers, “‘sette?” 

“Who is that, sweetheart?” Mrs. Potts asks. 

“ _Ma sœur_ ,” LeFou whimpers, “I want ‘sette. Where is ‘sette?” 

“She’s not here right now sweetheart. We could write her, poppet. Where does she live? With you in Villeneuve?” Mrs. Potts prompts.

Maurice is powerless to stop what happens next. He knows what’s coming. He finds himself unable to say anything before LeFou lifts his right hand up to his forehead, down to his heart, and across his chest left to right. 

Cogsworth closes his eyes. He should have seen that coming. 

“’s my fault. shouldn’t have asked. should have remembered. ’s my fault she’s dead, and with _les vautours_ like maman. They’re dead and it’s all my fault.” He opens his eyes only to close them as tears start falling down his flushed cheeks. 

“Now. I don’t believe a word of that.” Cogsworth adjusts the blankets a little. 

Cogsworth knows he can’t attempt to look at the wound until he’s certain LeFou is lucid and calm. He needs to treat the fever enough to get LeFou relaxed, and then he can begin thinking about the rest.He also wants the young man to talk. He wants to be prepared for anything the fever can warp, or change, or manipulate in LeFou’s mind. He wants everyone in the household to know what to say in moments of high stress to calm him. He know that fevers accompanying infection are hard fight, and he’s well aware that none of them know LeFou very well. It would be easy even with a patient he knew well to say something wrong, and so, he just listens. 

LeFou’s fever addled brain realizes suddenly that he doesn’t recognize the people to his left. 

He’s scared now. 

Why are they here? 

Mrs. Potts feels the fever spiking again, and she shakes her head in frustration. It seemed as though it was just starting to come down. Now that he’s awake, it will easily make him confused. 

LeFou turns his head the other way to see who’s holding his hand. 

He recognizes Maurice. 

But, didn’t he and Gaston kill him a few days or was it weeks ago? 

Is _he_ dead now too? 

Mrs. Potts quickly removes the cool compress and rewets it. She traces LeFou’s hairline from left temple to right trying to soothe him. 

Cogsworth swears under his breath. They’d been making progress. But, something still concerns him. 

Vultures. 

Vultures with the dead? 

What was that about? 

“You’re with friends now, son,” Maurice whispers. “Try not to thrash so much. Easy. You’re safe.” 

“Are we dead?” LeFou’s eyes are wide with terror. 

“No, no, no.” Maurice soothes running his thumb over LeFou’s knuckles. “No, we’re both safe. You’re safe.” 

LeFou relaxes for a moment, but fear still has its claws around his heart. He thinks back to what Papa said, and what Papa did when maman and Cosette were sick. He thinks about how Maurice’s almost death, and his maman’s and Cosette’s deaths were all his fault. So, he starts to cry fresh tears that stick to his cheeks. 

“Are you going to leave me with _les vautours_ then?” LeFou sobs. “Papa left maman and Cosette with them. I left you in the forest. So, it certainly won’t be hard to leave me.”

Maurice uses his free hand to wipe the tears from LeFou’s flushed cheeks, “Oh, no. No, we’re not going to leave you. We don’t need to leave you. You’re with friends now. Hush, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

Cogsworth is starting to get a picture of what those “vultures” may have been. He makes eye contact with both Maurice and Mrs. Potts, and they all seem to come to the same consensus.

Maurice’s tear filled eyes, and Mrs. Potts’ display of motherly emotion tell him he’s right. The answer to the feverish “riddle,” if you can call it that, is plague doctors. Cogsworth knows that, to a small child, plague doctor’s masks and cloaks would be terrifying. He also thinks that, depending upon the stories LeFou knew as a child, a vulture may have accompanied the idea of death. For, in many fables, the vulture is the harbinger of death. 

LeFou lets out another soft sob. “A-and it’s all my fault!” 

“How is it your fault, my boy?” Cogsworth presses a damp cloth to LeFou’s shoulder in an attempt to clean him up a little. He noticed how the bed sheets seemed slightly damp, but they probably shouldn’t move him to change them unless they had to. 

“Papa said I brought the fate of Sodom and Gomorra. I kissed a boy in the yard behind the house. Cosette and Maman were my punishment. It’s all my fault.” LeFou sobs louder and his shoulders give way to soft tremors as he cries. 

Cogsworth finds himself so angry that he wants to shove his fist straight through the wall. He’s never been a violent person, but, in that instant, he finds himself angry beyond rationale. 

Maurice keeps stroking LeFou’s knuckles. “He’s wrong. He was so wrong.” 

“Then why did he leave me with him?” LeFou asks. 

Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts look confused, but Maurice just looks sad. 

“Why did he and my sisters leave me alone with,” LeFou’s face goes paler and he looks up at Maurice with absolute terror written across his features, “my uncle. Why? He said it was my punishment. My purgatory to save me from eternal damnation if he could ever hope for me to overcome what I’d done to my family.” 

Cogsworth gets up to leave to a moment. They need more ice from the kitchen, and he know he can’t listen to this. 

Mrs. Potts shakes her head mouthing the words “I’ll explain later” to Maurice’s confused expression. 

“We’re not going to let that happen, poppet.” She strokes LeFou’s sweat soaked hair. “I’m not. Maurice is not. None of our friends will ever let that happen to you again.”

“But, I’m sick. So, _les vautours_ will be here soon, and then you’ll leave. No one would crowd and comfort if they weren’t coming. I’ll remember you though. I remember everyone that leaves.”

Mrs. Potts continues to stroke LeFou’s hair, and Maurice rubs LeFou’s knuckles. Neither of them know what to say.

“Even if they’re not coming. I know how to take care of myself. I’ve done it before,” LeFou stops his feverish hysterics and becomes suddenly serious. “I’ve done it before.” 

“How do you mean?” Maurice asks.

“Last winter,” LeFou shudders with the memory, “the influenza struck the village. I was inside for days by myself. But, well, I wasn’t exactly completely alone. I think Stanley was there once? It was near the end of it. No one knew where I was, and I guess Gaston, or Tom, or Dick, or someone asked him to come looking for me. It’s hazy as you’d likely expect.”

Maurice doesn’t know what to say. He would have to press Stanley on this one. Maybe this was the “bad day,” or whatever Stanley had mentioned, that allowed him to find out LeFou’s Christian name. 

How long would it have taken someone to find him if he had died?

Maurice tries not to think about that. 

Mrs. Potts lays a hand on LeFou’s forehead. The fever has fallen quite a bit which she had suspected since LeFou seems to be making more sense. 

Maurice hears the door open, and Cogsworth returns with several towels that are packed tightly around small chips of ice. 

Cogsworth kneels down, and sets one of the three ice packs gently on the top of LeFou’s head. The chips of ice clink together as they gently conform to the shape.

“This will help,” Cogsworth gently tucks a stray strand of LeFou’s hair behind his ear. 

LeFou finds the pack frigid at first, but comes to relish in the soothing nature of it after a moment. 

Mrs. Potts gives Cogsworth’s hand a squeeze, and kneels next to him. “That was wise of you. You know the two of you ought to speak when this is done. I’m confident that under your care he will survive. He’s a strong and stubborn little thing. You might be able to provide more healing for each other than all of us could do for either of you put together.” 

Cogsworth nods. He’s thought of that. He’s thought about letting the young man ask him questions. He’s thought about how he wants to close him inside these walls and never let the world see him again. But, at the same time, he doesn’t want that. That’s what he did to himself. He had buried himself in his work as the head-of-household. He never saw his days in the sun even when Lumière tried to force him. He’ll be damned if this boy sees the same fate. 

LeFou’s eyes are clearing a little bit. He wonders what he said before. He remembers vaguely mentioning the bout of influenza he’d had last Christmas. He remembers talking about Stanley. 

He called out for … did he call for Cosette? 

Why would he do that?

He then wonders how much he revealed about his past. He panics for a moment hoping that he didn’t tell them about Papa. 

LeFou wants to and he is supposed to live with that alone. Yet, somehow, he knows if he called out for his maman or Cosette that he must have mentioned his purgatory and his hell. 

He feels like such an idiot. 

Why did he go and open his mouth? 

They should have left him. They didn’t need this. He knows he’s more of a pain than he’s worth, but he doesn’t say it. That just hurts people more. 

His mind clears further, and he begins to recognize Cogsworth now, and he knows Mrs. Potts is the woman who cared for him while he got his sutures. However, as his mind clears, all the pain he didn’t feel before he feels now. 

Waves of shooting pain go up and down his left side.

He grits his teeth against it. 

“What hurts?” Cogsworth asks as he begins to undo the bandages. 

Mrs. Potts pushes back LeFou’s bangs. She had been worried that once they brought the fever down a new pain would set in. 

“M-my side,” he winces as Cogsworth presses around the wound. 

Cogsworth can see that its infected by the way an angry redness has begun to spread up LeFou’s chest from the wound, and then, it extends down from the injury to his hip. He finds that one of the only good things about this is that only the area around the sutures is truly inflamed and swollen. He picks up one of the ice towels and places it over the inflammation. Cogsworth, with the help of Mrs. Potts and Maurice, is able to bandage the ice pack in place. 

LeFou sucks in a deep breath as the cool towels press up against his skin. He doesn’t cry out because after a moment it feels sort of nice.

Maurice tucks the blankets up around LeFou’s chin when they’re done, and he coaxes LeFou into drinking about half a glass of water. 

LeFou shuts his eyes as the water hits his stomach. He felt a little nauseous before, but now he’s afraid he might be sick. 

Cogsworth springs into action as he takes an empty basin from Maurice just in case. 

“It’s common with this sort of infection to have this happen. I just don’t want it to spread to his joints, or his spleen, or his lungs.” Cogsworth keeps his voice low so that only Mrs. Potts hears. 

She knows he’s just reciting facts to himself as he so often does while he works, but it’s good information to have. 

Maurice is happy when the young man finally settles. He’s both surprised and not when LeFou’s head flops onto his shoulder. Cogsworth places the last ice pack onto the pillow under LeFou’s neck, and he and Maurice help LeFou lie back down. 

All three of them are happy to find that LeFou is quick to fall back to sleep. 

After several minutes, the door creeks open. Mrs. Potts can’t help but smile when she sees Mme Garderobe with her arm wrapped protectively around Stanley’s shoulder. Maestro is holding Froufrou in one arm, and has his other arm around Mme. 

“We wanted to know if you all wanted relief,” Maestro states. 

Cogsworth has to smile because looking at the three, well, four if you count Froufrou, of them together like a happy family makes him realize that at least some things are right in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the reason this is up so late in the afternoon (since I'm usually earlier on weekends) is because I accidentally deleted this chapter. I saved over it last night by accident. So, if this chapter isn't exactly of the same grammatical quality of the last few it's because I had to rewrite the whole thing. 
> 
> I'm actually really embarrassed about this. I'm normally so organized, but in the end I think it was actually for the best. I had changed a few things about how these last two chapters were meant to fit together, and while I'd edited the original thought I'm really happy with how I was able to draw Cogsworth out in this chapter a little bit. I know people are kind of excited about what's up with him and Clothilde, the nature of his sexuality, and a few other things that people have been mentioning. So, those were thoughts that ended up in the new version of chapter 13 that weren't there in the first two drafts. 
> 
> Uh ... I think that's all I have to say before I go into Easter Eggs, but as always if you want to ask a question, scream at me for how I torture characters I like, or just chat with me about your life drop a comment. I always reply to them within twenty-four hours and sometimes quicker if I'm working on the computer on other projects. 
> 
> And now, the moment you've been waiting for ...
> 
> The Easter Eggs:
> 
> Title and LeFou's line: "I’ll remember you though. I remember everyone that leaves." This line of dialogue was lifted from Lilo and Stitch; Lilo says this line to Stitch when he decides he wants to go before the whole home invasion scene happens. 
> 
> Someone got this in the comments on the last chapter, but yes - Plague doctors was the correct identity of the "vultures" in our last few chapters which was revealed in this one. 
> 
> Cogsworth referring to figuring out what "vultures" signified in this was a slight homage to The Hobbit. Bilbo Baggins has a sort of riddle war with Gollum in the first quarter of the book and in the first Hobbit movie. Again, the Hobbit trilogy starred two of Beauty and the Beast's leading actors. Cogsworth is the specific questioner because Ian McKellen plays Gandalf. Gandalf later connects how the "Riddles in the Dark" connect to the One Ring in the Fellowship of the Ring. So, having Cogsworth ponder riddles just made perfect sense. 
> 
> Thank you guys for sticking with the story by the way. I'm amazed at how long it's gotten, and how many people are really reading it and telling me what they think! You guys make me WANT to post everyday so that I can smile at your comments and have these lovely back and forths with you. So, thanks guys. 
> 
> Look forward to some #plot divergence. I'm planning on focusing on conversations between characters that aren't the main ones, so we'll be diverting from our regularly scheduled program to focus on the second part of our lead paring. 
> 
> Thanks again and Cheers,  
> Pip


	14. The Strangest Family Reunion

Stanley is happy at the prospects of sitting up with Mme and Maestro and their lap dog. The Mme loved what Adam had done with his eyes earlier that day, and she tells Adam the only thing she would have done differently would be to thicken up the gold lining around the Stanley's eyes. 

Adam, Belle, Maestro, Mme, and Stanley all enjoy lunch together, and Adam tells Stanley more about the fight between Gaston and himself a few nights ago. Stanley had to know, for Étienne's sake, if Gaston was really dead. Adam confirms that Gaston really had died, and Stanley finds some solace in the fact that Gaston was killed by his own hubris. 

After this is settled, Adam and Belle depart for the library to do whatever it is that Adam and Belle do together in the library. Though, based on the looks Mme and Maestro give each other, Stanley hopes they at least lock the door. There is a child around. 

Mme, Maestro, and Stanley remain together after lunch talking about how lovely the day is, and they make jokes about the silliest things. Stanley can’t help but feel like there’s something right in this, and like a cloud is lifting from his memory somehow. He seems to remember doing this before once a long time ago. He remembers the voice of Mme and the strong but long and adept fingers of the Maestro closing around his hand. His mind is still in a fog, but somehow sitting in this white rose garden with these people in particular reminds him of a memory from long, long ago. 

Stanley so hoped he could share his happiness and wandering thoughts with Étienne, and he resolved to while he, Mme, and Maestro sat up with Étienne this evening and tomorrow morning. 

Well, that was Stanley’s plan until Lumière and Plumette came and told Stanley, Mme, and Maestro that ‘Tienne had spiked a fever about an hour ago, and that Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, and Maurice were still fighting it. 

Stanley couldn’t believe it, and it took all his will power not to run up the stairs to be at his friend’s side. He calms himself with the knowledge that at least _someone_ is there with 'Tienne _this_ time. He shudders remembering the state in which he had found Étienne last Christmas. 

“What troubles you my beautiful boy?” Mme Garderobe whispers putting her chin on top of Stanley’s curls. “Hmmm … tell me?” 

“It’s just … I know his life has been hard. ‘Tienne … nothing’s been easy for him. He’s never had anyone to look after him his whole life. I didn’t know hardly at all until last Christmas, but he’s been on his own forever it seems. He lost his family at seven. I don’t know if he knows I know. I know a whole lot that he probably doesn’t know I know.” Stanley pulls closer to her. 

“How so, _cherie_?” She asks. 

He looks up at her, “How did you … Why did you?” 

“Call it a mother’s intuition,” Maestro winks. “Ever since you were five we switched every hour, every day, and you loved it. You beamed. Mme knew it was you. _I_ knew it was you.” 

Stanley wraps both of his arms around Mme, and sobs loudly. “I’m sorry I forgot. I didn’t want …” 

“It’s not your fault, _mon ange_.” She lifts his face. Her eyes are dark with anger. “She took you from us. The enchantress stole you from us. I took up preforming for the Prince's balls full time. He seemed to want one every night, and so at sixteen we apprenticed you to Vivian the seamstress in the near by village. It was snowy that night, and you decided to stay in the village. M. Adam changed and with his transformation everyone who wasn't with us that night forgot though no will of their own.”

He remembers now. 

He remembers it all.

Staying the night at Vivian’s home. 

How there seemed to be something missing when he woke up, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around what. 

He wanted to go back somewhere, but he had no idea where. 

Vivian knew he didn’t belong in her home and that he was only staying the night, but that was all either of them could remember. 

No one remembered where he was meant to go.

He was lost.

And, he'd found friends in that sense of loss. He and Jean the Potter would drink together sometimes when he wasn't acting as bar security. They would ask each other why so much felt missing when they were sure they had everything. The locks on the bar were locked, and Jean's donkey was fed. Why did it feel like they were forgetting something. 

Tom and Dick thought he was funny rambling about being lost. They teased him and called him a little philosopher. They told him that's what he got for reading flowery books. They toughened him up, and so, when he couldn't enlist, he became bar security full time during the war. 

He turned nineteen just as the war ended, but they'd had no need of him so he didn't enlist. Yet, he can't help but remember how his corner of Villeneuve changed after that war. 

LeFou returned a quieter and more shaken twenty. Gaston came back a crazed and increasingly brash twenty-five. Tom and Dick enjoyed wrestling and fighting far more than the silly pranks they used to play with him. He wishes the war wouldn't have happened, but then, he wonders if his parents would have remained a chest of drawers and a harpsichord. He tries to believe that things might have still turned out this way but better. Yet, he feels somewhere inside himself that changing one event would change everything. 

The realization hits him with its full force again. He reals with the knowledge that he spent nearly five or six years completely unaware of his home and his parents. And yet, he's curious. 

“Why didn’t my memory clear with everyone else’s?” Stanley finally asks through his tears. 

“You were so shaken,” Maestro lays a hand on his back. “It’s not a wonder you wouldn’t remember with out a bit of prompting.” 

“I missed you. I just … I didn’t know it was you,” Stanley whispers wrapping his arms tighter around his now human mother. 

“I knew …” she laughs. “I knew whichever one of you turned around and smiled in all that makeup and fabric was mine. My beautiful boy. _Mon che_ r and _ma cherie_. ”

“Someone will fetch us when they’re ready for us to take over, so,” Maestro sweeps a lock of Stanley's hair off his cheek, “Tell me, what happened last Christmas with you and your friend that has you so shaken?” 

Stanley knits his eyebrows in concentration. “Oh, where to begin? I suppose I’ll start at the very beginning. As, that's probably for the best.”

Maestro and Mme settle in to hear this tale, and they prepare themselves for anything. Mme puts FrouFrou on Stanley's lap with a smile. 

"He's good for comfort." She tucks a loose strand of hair behind Stanley's ear. "Now that we're all settled you may begin." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY HAPPINESS!!!!!! I hope y'all enjoyed this nice little reveal. I don't care if Stanley doesn't "look like the child of Mme and Maestro" my bean is and that's all that matters who knows maybe they adopted him? Whatever, he was a five year old bean in that castle at one point, and he enjoyed both male and female French terms of endearment from his parents. My genderfluid bean ... 
> 
> So, as a peace offering, I bring the fluff in buckets after all the angst last chapter. I'm actually posting two today because this one is really short and has a companion chapter where the cliffhanger I left you explained. I would have put both of them together, but I didn't like the way it looked. The chapter would have also flipped tenses half way through, and I hate that. Blech! No tense flipping unless its like a paragraph that begins "had ___"
> 
> This also saves me from an awkward page break. 
> 
> You'll also notice that I've just started calling "LeFou" Étienne. I would have started doing this sooner, but I really wanted to drive home that they were the same person, so I feel pretty confident that people will know who I'm talking about when I say Étienne as opposed to LeFou. If you do find it confusing though, I can change it and call him LeFou again. 
> 
> I wanted to get some of Stanley and Étienne's backstory, and why Stanley knows so much despite Étienne's private nature. Which means that this story just got longer. YAY! (The next chapter is a flashback which is why I changed tenses.) 
> 
> In other news, I've depleted my reserve chapters so I might not be able to update as often now until I can sit down and write more surplus/ I might finish the story before I get surplus. So, expect updates a bit less frequently especially since my semester is finishing, and, my God, I graduate from university in less than a month ... Jeezums ...
> 
> So, yeah ... lots of crazy stuff happening. I love writing this because it takes my mind off of all the change that's going on in my life and gives me something consistent that's also fun.


	15. FrouFrou and Flashbacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: 
> 
> Mild mentions of non-consensual potentially sexual biting.

** Christmas 1799 **

“He should have been here an hour ago!” Gaston raged his fist hitting the table causing many of the beer mugs to clatter noisily against the table. 

Stanley shuddered at the sudden noise. He admitted it was odd, but there was no reason to be angry. In fact, Stanley wasn’t angry. He was nervous. LeFou was never late to gatherings at the tavern. 

Especially when Gaston was involved. 

He wasn’t sure why LeFou was always so early or exactly on time, but he suspected it had to do with LeFou being the only person in Villeneuve who could keep Gaston’s temper in check. 

Stanley looked around and realized he wasn’t the only one who looked concerned. 

Vivian, the owner of the dress shop, also had her eyebrows knit with worry. She’d taken a liking to Stanley as he had apprenticed her at one time, and she knew LeFou to be a simple quiet young man. Stanley wondered if she found Gaston as dangerous as he did. Vivian could do nothing to prevent her daughters staying at the tavern long after she left, and yet, he knew that she wished they would find sense and leave Gaston behind. But, her husband was insistent that one of them would marry the town hero. The three girls would pursue Gaston even if his heart was set on someone else. 

Vivian came over to Stanley. 

“You’re afraid for little LeFou too aren’t you?” She asked. 

He looked up at her and his knew his expression betrayed him. “He’s never late, and with Gaston cross with him …” 

“I’ve no idea what my daughters or my husband see in Gaston. He’s filled with blind rage, perhaps, from the war, but still.  I’ve seen him, little LeFou, trail after Gaston in the streets. I think he’s the only thing that keeps our _war hero_ from turning _hero_ against us all.” She fiddled with her hands. “But, I’ve said too much.” 

He looked over at her. “You think he hurts him, too don’t you?” 

“I don’t know if he still does, but I have my suspicions that it happened in the war. It happens to innocent young people in war all the time, and LeFou used to meet my eyes. He doesn’t anymore. I’ve wondered why.” Vivian blushed. “But, like I said. I’ve said too much.” 

Stanley found some of his fears confirmed in a way. Vivian wasn’t clear whether or not LeFou had told her anything, but she was clear that she suspected something was wrong. 

“He looked pale today don’t you think?” She asked Stanley after a long silence. 

“He did. Yes.” Stanley agreed packing up his things. 

“Do you know where he lives?” She asked him.

“I do. Thank you Mme.” He jumped off the stool and headed towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Gaston shouted to Stanley’s back. 

“To find LeFou for you.” Stanley opened the door and disappeared behind it. 

“Hurry up!” Gaston drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair. 

Stanley walked to the opposite end of Villeneuve where LeFou’s house was. Stanley readied himself, and began knocking on the door despite the fact that he didn’t see any lights. 

“LeFou!” Stanley shouted. “Gaston’s getting grumpy and causing a scene! Where are you?” 

He didn’t receive an answer so he tried the door handle. He was shocked to find that the door was open. 

“LeFou?” Stanley’s voice was filled with concern. “LeFou where are you?” 

Stanley walked into the living room to find LeFou sprawled on the floor. 

“LeFou,” Stanley knelt down quickly, “Wake up. Are you alright, _mon ami_?” 

LeFou’s eyes shot open quickly. “Did I miss something? God, he hasn’t …” hacking coughs escaped LeFou’s lungs. 

“Easy.” Stanley rubbed LeFou’s back softly. “Easy. Let’s get you to bed. Make it better than sitting on the floor like this, hm?” 

“No. ’s fine. I got it. Just tell them I’m fine, and to carry on with out me for awhile. I’ll be there.” LeFou pushed himself up to stand. 

Stanley tried not mention that LeFou looked about as sturdy on his feet as a baby deer. 

“How about I tell Gaston and the others that you're ill and you stay here?” Stanley said firmly. “Sit, now. You’re going to fall over.” 

“I can’t do that,” LeFou said reaching for his jacket. “You don’t know what will happen.” 

“What will happen is you’ll get sicker. Surely, you know that?” Stanley gently guided LeFou into an armchair. He could feel the slight feverish heat radiating from LeFou's body. “Take it easy. It’ll be fine. Tom, Dick, and I will find a way to entertain him.” 

LeFou shook his head. “You don’t get it. You really don’t. Just head back. I’ll meet you. I’m fine. I was just tired.” 

“You fainted didn’t you?” Stanley looked at him with seriousness. “Be honest with me.” 

“No. I didn’t.” LeFou looked at Stanley’s shoulders more than his face, but Stanley knew that couldn’t be an indication of truth or untruth. LeFou never really looked anyone in the eye. 

“Okay, okay, fine. I trust you. Just take care of yourself, okay? Would it be okay if I checked in on you tonight? Or better yet, let me walk you home?” Stanley wanted so badly for LeFou to accept his offer. 

“Okay. Sure. You can walk me back.” LeFou conceded if only to get Stanley to stop pushing him on the matter. 

Stanley left, but to this day he wishes he didn’t. 

LeFou never made it to the tavern that night. Gaston left in a rage about an hour after Stanley returned from LeFou’s home. Stanley left shortly after that, and he walked the trail back to LeFou’s house. 

He found him about halfway to the tavern face down in the snow. 

Stanley took a knee. “Hey, LeFou? LeFou, can you hear me? Can you hear me?” 

LeFou’s eyes opened sleepily. “Shit … he didn’t break anything did he?” 

“My God, is that all you can think about? You’ve been out here for, what, an hour in the snow!” Stanley helped LeFou’s arm around his shoulder. “Can you stand?” 

LeFou nodded, but his legs would hardly bear him. “I'll manage.” 

Stanley shook his head in frustration. The snow was coming down harder around them. LeFou's coughing was harsher and more frequent than before. They, somehow, by some grace, made it to LeFou’s door. 

“Give me your key.”

LeFou handed it to Stanley who put it in the door. 

Stanley felt LeFou slipping from his grasp. “You okay?” 

“No. I can’t stand.” 

Stanley's panic somehow remained inside him as calmly helped LeFou sit. “Better?”

He brushed some of the snow out of LeFou’s messy hair. “I’m going to make you a cup of tea. Stay here. _Don’t_ try to get up on your own.” 

LeFou tried to respond but he couldn’t as coughs wracked his entire body. 

Stanley shook his head. He wasn’t going to say I-told-you-so, but he really wanted to no matter how petulant it sounded. 

He came back with the tea a few minutes later to see LeFou struggling to get the buttons around his collar undone. 

Stanley set the tea cup down next to him.

“Here. Hey, let me help!” Stanley gently undid the buttons. “Why are you so damn stubborn? Let me help you, alright.” 

LeFou took in a few shuddering breaths but kept coughing. 

Stanley’s eyes widened in realization. “LeFou? LeFou, breathe. Breathe, _cher_. It’s alright. It’s okay. Breathe. Deep breaths … deep breaths. Deep breaths. I've got you. You're not alone.” 

LeFou flopped onto Stanley’s shoulder. He was well aware that they were still in his foyer on the floor, but he didn’t care. 

“Better?” Stanley asked him while handing the tea over to him. “Small sips now.” 

Stanley managed to get some of the warm liquid into LeFou, and then Stanley helped LeFou up. They walked slowly and carefully over to LeFou’s bedroom. Stanley saw the aftermath of LeFou trying to take care of himself last night and perhaps even over the course of several days. 

“How long have you been ill?” Stanley helped LeFou down onto the mattress. 

“Week? Maybe? Thought I could fight it on my own.” LeFou gave him a half smile. “Thank you. I … I think I can manage now.” 

“Are you serious?” Stanley asked incredulous. “No. No, I’m not leaving you here like this. I’d feel responsible if something happened to you.” 

LeFou raised an eyebrow confused. “Why? I’m fine now. I’m in bed. I’ll sleep. I’ll be f…” Another round of hacking coughs cut him off. 

“If you were going to say you’ll be fine in the morning I will kill you,” Stanley smiled to show he was teasing. 

LeFou just looked at him. “It’s easier for everyone that way. What’s your method?” 

Stanley did not expect that response. “I was joking.” 

“I wasn’t.” 

Stanley didn’t know what to say. LeFou was always such a happy person, and so he reassured himself it was just the fever talking. Stanley eventually convinced LeFou to at least let him stay the night in case the doctor was needed. Stanley waited for a long time until LeFou fell asleep, and in that time, Stanley learned that LeFou’s name was actually Étienne Lefevre. He learned through careful prodding that ‘Tienne’s family had abandoned him here when he was seven. Stanley wasn’t sure Le … ‘Tienne would even remember telling him that because it was a half mumbled thought before ‘Tienne fell asleep. 

“Goodnight.” Stanley squeezed Étienne’s hand as he closed the door and made for the living room couch. 

Stanley resolved within himself to go for a doctor if Étienne’s fever didn’t break that night. 

Stanley didn't even wait that long. He ended up fetching the doctor around three in the morning. 

Étienne began thrashing wildly and crying out. Stanley shoved open the door to 'Tienne's room, and he knelt on the floor near Étienne’s bedside. 

“What’s wrong?” Stanley asked. “What is it?” 

Étienne groaned slightly. “Gaston no … please don’t … please I’ll do anything. Please don’t do this.” 

Stanley pressed the back of his hand to Étienne’s forehead. “ _Cher_ , wake up. It’s a nightmare.” 

“No please,” Étienne started crying. “Please. Please!” 

Stanley couldn’t ignore the desperation in those cries. “He’s not here. Wake up.” 

Stanley couldn’t shake this from his mind. He didn’t know what Gaston did, but it couldn’t have been pleasant. Étienne sounded terrified. He couldn’t shake the inkling deep inside himself that he knew why Étienne was crying. Stanley wanted to take it away. 

“I’m going to get help. I’ll be right back. I swear.” Stanley gave Étienne’s hand another quick squeeze. 

Stanley found and brought back Villeneuve’s doctor in record time.

“’s no wonder they gave him that nickname awful as it is,” the doctor muttered under his breath. “He could have caught pneumonia if this got any worse.” 

Stanley stood outside the door for hours. 

“He’s lucky,” the doctor said. “If you can convince him to rest for the next two or three days he’ll be fine.” 

“I’ll sit on him if I have to,” Stanley replied. 

“Good for you,” the doctor laughed. “Keep the compress on his forehead and replace it every hour. If you can get him to take the Castor oil do, but if not just keep giving him tea. He’ll be fine. But, no matter what he says he’s not to be alone ‘till the fever’s completely gone. Even if he says he’s fine enough to treat it himself. He’s not.” 

“Why’s that?” Stanley asked. 

“Mark on the stomach didn’t look consensual. He might have been … ah ... how to put this lightly ... assaulted in camp during the war. The person who gave it to him was likely dishonorably discharged by Captain Gaston. But, it’s bad for men who’ve had that particular experience to be alone with fever. It comes up sometimes in dreams and the like. It gets warped. It’s not his fault likely, and I wouldn’t bring it up if he doesn’t.” The doctor closed the door. 

Stanley goes quite a few shades paler than he already was. He was right. 

Why did he have to be right? 

He remained in Étienne’s house for three days only leaving to get a few things here and there. The doctor was right Étienne did recover, but Stanley never pressed Étienne for any information. Étienne never said whether or not he knew what Stanley had found out. 

However, the two of them did find time in their schedules to drink just the two of them every other week. Most of the time they didn’t say much, but, instead, they enjoyed each other’s company. 

****

Stanley looks down at his feet the whole time he tells the story. He scratches FrouFrou behind the ears, and he thinks about why he didn’t ask ‘Tienne about the mark on his stomach. He wonders if he could have done more to get 'Tienne away from Gaston. 

Mme and Maestro look at each other closely in the eyes, if what Stanley and the village doctor said was true, then the death of this “Gaston” was about to get a lot more complicated when the news was eventually broken to ‘Tienne. 

Stanley pets FrouFrou softly as he considers all he’s learned and discovered in the last few days. His mind is overloaded with joy at the rediscovery of his family, but fear for his friend’s saftey. He finds himself grieving for Gaston, though, not willingly. It’s almost a formality but not quite. He doesn’t know how to place the emptiness inside himself. He finds a part of himself filled that he never thought would be again, but he finds a different part of him empty. He can only imagine what Étienne will think. 

Someone will have to be there to clean up the pieces left behind because Stanley knows ‘Tienne is going to blame himself. Hell, ‘Tienne passed out face down in the snow and his first thought was “what did Gaston break and what do I need to do to fix it?” 

Stanley can’t help thinking about this despite the fact that he’s in this lovely garden watching the sunset with his newly reunited family. 

The dog seems to understand his sentiment as FrouFrou cuddles closer him. 

Plumette appears in a rush to them. “I think they’re ready for you. Lumière wants to make Cogsworth some coffee so they’ll need at least one extra set of hands. I thought I’d send you up as a peace offering first, and then send Lumière to Cogsworth in an hour. I think I can hold him off that long.” 

Her wink isn’t as suggestive as it usually is. 

“Something’s on his mind?” Maestro stands and takes FrouFrou from Stanley. 

“I think he’s shaken. I went to get help when the fever spiked. I think being there alone scared him. We’ve all grown a bit attached, I think. I want to talk to him before he talks to Cogsworth,” She states matter-of-factly. 

“You’re too good to him,” Mme Garderobe laughs. "He's going to go softer than the wax of his candles." 

“We’re too good to each other, which,” Plumette grins, “Is as it should be. You two know that. You taught us that: In a world that doesn’t want,” she begins. 

“You to be together you ought to be the best elements of the world to each other.” The three of them finish in tandem. 

“Commit it to memory.” Plumette looks Stanley right in the eyes. 

The three of them depart from her to go upstairs as she heads to the kitchen. 

“ _Mon amour_ what am I going to do with you?” She asks herself quietly as she hears the soft cursing coming from the kitchen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've decided the Lumière is the exact projection of myself in all stressful situations because the only other person I know that swears that much under stress is me. I promise we'll get a real scene with him soon. 
> 
> Also I hope you enjoyed the flashback. I wanted to make it quick but telling. I don't know if I will go in depth into the nature of how the non-consensual bite mark was received, but I might. Not for a while though. I just want Lumière and Cogsworth to have their coffee. I don't need to write any more angst for awhile now.
> 
> If I DO write that chapter I promise! I will write a beginning note with a trigger warning and skippable summary for people who don't want to read the details. I do this as a courtesy because I don't know any of your backgrounds, and I don't want you to miss any information that will be important for future chapters. However, I also don't want to subject you to writing that may be triggering. I try to write non-consensual/sexual assault with a lot of sensitivity having had ... uh ... experiences (we'll leave that there) myself. 
> 
> Okay. That was heavier than I expected. 
> 
> Easter Eggs:
> 
> "Stanley" - okay the really funny thing about Stanley being the child of Mme and Maestro is that Maestro Cadenza is voiced by Stanley Tucci ;) 
> 
> Vivian's name is actually the name of the actress who played her. I know I'm so creative. 
> 
> The bit about LeFou passing out in the snow actually comes from the 1991 film. Belle's original vision of her father is not the same as in the 2017 film. The mirror shows Maurice face down in the snow in the original film. So, it isn't until much later that Gaston comes to take him to the mad house. So, I decided to play with that scene in this chapter. 
> 
> I think I nabbed all of them between these two chapters. :D 
> 
> Also personal head canon is that FrouFrou is the best therapy!dog. #service animals for the win! 
> 
> Also, wish me luck I'm representing my college in our Spring New Voices Reading tomorrow night. I'm reading my poetry which is scary but exciting. I don't know how much/how many poems I'm expected to read, but I'm super stoked. 
> 
> I just realized I didn't title this chapter. Whoops. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	16. Burning Candlesticks

"How many times have you burned yourself?” Plumette asks without even seeing him.

_How does she know that I burned myself?_ Lumière sticks out his lower lip in a half pout. _She wasn’t even here. How does she know?_

“I know because you only curse when you’ve broken something _or_ when you burn yourself. The french press is still in tact so what did you burn?” 

“You read minds now?” He asks petulantly as she half waltzes to his side to take his hand. 

“Hmmm … superficial but could use a salve. Only half the palm this time. Being a candle must have helped you.” She teases. 

“When have I ever burnt the whole palm?” He draws his eyebrows down in mock frustration and true confusion. 

“Do you want the short list or the long. Because, as I remember, it was almost every morning.” She bats her eyelashes daring him to argue. 

“So? I’m clumsy.” He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Yes. You are. And it can’t be easy adjusting to being a human after being a candlestick either.” She says gently pressing her forehead to his. “The Mme and Maestro finally have their child back. They finally had a moment to help him remember.” 

“When will you tell him?” Lumière asks pressing his nose even more deeply into hers. “That he has a sister too?” 

“Later,” she smiles, “Unless someone slips. Slow. Lumière these things must be slow. Too much information would overwhelm him. We all know that.” 

“Sometimes I wonder what happened to mine,” he confesses so much to himself that she can't hear it. 

She reads it off his lips. 

“We’re your family. That’s all that matters.” She kisses his cheek and then comes back to looking him in the eyes. “Yours didn’t deserve you, and neither did Étienne's. It just took him longer.” 

“I can’t help but think about it. What 'Tienne's family did to him, I mean. Abandoning him.” Lumière’s eyes swell with tears. “But, instead of ending up in a home filled with kindness and love with a seemingly solitary corrupting force, he ended up in terror and darkness. It’s so easy to imagine that happening to me.” 

She’s moved to embracing him. She holds him tightly as her eyes burn with liquid fire. 

Her mother told Plumette she half expected the king to throw Lumière out if not for Cogsworth. Her mother had said it was the last time Cogsworth ever used his power as head-of-household. For, he was afraid if he tried use his status that Lumière might be forced to leave. Little Lumière had stood on the front steps of the castle at only five years old. Cogsworth took a liking to him immediately and brought him inside. His wife of course was outraged as she was worried the "little vagabond" would have to be treated as her own son, and in some ways she was right to be concerned. For, Cogsworth did treat Lumière like his son. He found he had to because, no one knew where Lumière came from. 

Plumette, to this day, is unsure if Adam knew the origins of his bright-eyed and happy-go-lucky man servant for Lumière’s mysterious appearance happened long before Adam was even born. Plumette recalled her mother saying that Plumette herself was barely a week old the day Lumière appeared. Her mother, ever the hopeless romantic, told her she was certain that Plumette’s eyes lit up with excitement upon seeing the young boy. 

The queen, at Cogsworth’s prompting, was the one who convinced her husband to allow Lumière to stay and train as a the king’s man servant. The former man servant had passed away that winter, and Cogsworth was now not only seeing to the household but the king as well. Lumière became the light that no one knew they needed until he arrived. He was intensely curious and a fast learner, and for that Cogsworth was grateful. However, the manner of his coordination often left something to be desired. 

Plumette laughs to herself even as she holds her beloved because she can’t remember a day of her life when he didn’t accidentally pull a table cloth off the table, or trip over his own feet. 

“Not all of us are so lucky as I am,” she finally whispers. “And, somehow in your strange mind, I suppose you consider yourself lucky in your own ways. And since you likely do, Cogsworth has found him now, and if that … what did you call him … _mental clock?_ ” She rolls her eyes when his response is affirmative, “Has found something in our dear one then, by God, he’ll set it right. You know that.”

They hold each other close and relish in the silence for a long while. Lumière is the first to break the silence while tightening the embrace. 

“Plumette, _ma cherie_ , do you ever wish you could go back and change people’s pasts?” His words are muffled by her shoulder, but the question rings loud and clear to her. 

She laughs sadly, and closes her eyes. She knows exactly where this is going. “Yes. I do sometimes. But, you’re not responsible for the world, _mon amour_. You can’t change other’s lives as much as you want to, and, pardon my bluntness _cher_ , but it’s useless wishing you could. You can only heal and bring light in your own time and your own turn. You can’t save Cogsworth from his wife, or Adam from his father. You can’t go back and save Belle’s or Étienne’s _mamans_ from the plague. You can only do what you can right now, and what you can do right now is let me go and help you with that coffee.” 

He does, but not before lightly pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Why do you always know just what to say to me?” 

“Because I’ve known you both as a man and a candlestick.” 

He laughs. “I suppose that would do it.” 

She notices as she pours hot water over the grounds that he’s still not himself. She can’t tell him anything else, and it frustrates her to no end that _she_ can’t fix _his_ past the way _he_ wants to fix everyone else’s. Maman always said true love wants the best for the other, so, if it would bring him peace, she’d sorrowfully and joyfully let the stars realign so they would never meet. No one would ever be as good or as bright, but she realizes within herself that she wouldn't have learned to live with out him for she would never know him. Somehow, that is infinitely harder than giving him up. 

For, without Lumière, Belle would have never remained here. She would have never gotten a room in the castle, and then her little brother or sister or sibling, or whatever they wished her to call him, her, or them, would never have been reunited with her and her parents. She owes him so much even if he doesn't know it. 

The scent from the blooming coffee fills the room with its magic, and draws Plumette away from her thoughts. She stirs the grounds counting to herself which feels almost like sining a song. She pours the last of the water over the grounds and pops the top on. 

Plumette leans against the counter watching Lumière play with his hands. She purses her lip as she wonders what he’s thinking about right now. 

Lumière can’t help but marvel at the stubborn will of his own mind. Plumette may have said all the right things, but it didn’t change the fact that he still wanted to fix everything. He knows he can’t. For, he’s a logical enough being to know that he can’t travel back in time. But, inside himself, he feels a burning desire to take away the pain of the world and carry it upon his own shoulders. He knows he can handle it. Other people cannot. He senses a kinship in the way Stanley has described their little Étienne. 

Étienne who tried to save the world from a monster only to have that monster tear him to shreds. 

Étienne who would mourn the man who tried to kill him. 

Étienne “LeFou” and Lancelot “Lumière.” 

It said so much that Étienne was a "fool" in that stupid, stupid village, and here "Lancelot" was a "light." It’s why he was changed into a candlestick he supposes because _his_ pet name means light, and somehow that makes him feel as though he’s obligated to find it in the darkness. 

“Twist your hands together any further and you won’t get them apart,” Plumette teases taking them in her own. “Play with mine so then we’ll never have to.” 

“I love you.” He laughs and cries at the same time. 

“I love you, too,” She whispers. “You’re the best of the world.” 

“And you’re mine. My world. The best of it.” He places a kiss on her cheek. 

She smiles as his mustache tickles her cheek. She hasn’t felt that sensation in so long, and it’s such a simple thing to miss. But, she finally has that simple thing now after so long without it. So, she’ll allow herself to indulge in loving the sensation of the his mustache if only because five years is far too long a time to have been without his touch. 

She gets up quickly, “Almost forgot about the coffee in the press!” 

She pushes the grounds down and pours three mugs. “You should get Cogsworth now before it gets too cold.” 

Lumière gives her one last ticklish kiss on the cheek before departing. 

“Oh my light,” she shakes her head with a soft smile. "You truly are the best of this world." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have taken a few steps away from the plot to give you some fluff. :D 
> 
> I love Plumette and Lumière as a couple. In so many ways they are #relationshipgoals. Also semi-psychic Plumette is my life. 
> 
> So, about Lancelot. Lancelot means "servant," and Étienne means crown. So, when Lumière is reflecting on their names he can't help but marvel at the irony of it all. 
> 
> Easter Eggs:
> 
> There's really only one, but it's a long one. Belle mentions in the garden scene while the Beast is reading King Arthur that it's technically a romance because of Lancelot and Guinevere. I will reveal more about why this book was particularly important to Adam in regards to his man servant in either a one-shot or a chapter in this fic. Haven't decided if it will fit into this fic or not. But, rest assured there is a reason and it does tie to Lumière's given name. 
> 
> That's about it for Easter Eggs folks. 
> 
> Just thought I'd let you know I kicked butt reading poetry yesterday. :D Yay! 
> 
> Thanks for all your loveliness and for just being your beautiful selves. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	17. I Fear the Wrong Monster's Released

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: 
> 
> This chapter contains what I consider pretty graphic content in the way of sexual manipulation and violence. I don't think there is any vital plot information contained other than it prompts the household to really understand the true nature of the bite mark, and shows more fever addled imagery to show the progress of the infection. 
> 
> I will be adding a tag to the story description after this chapter. 
> 
> This graphic content ends under the asterisks about half way down the chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and take care of yourselves. 
> 
> On a lighter note, this is a long one so get yourself a cup of tea with this chapter.

Étienne knows this place all too well. He remembers the damp inside of this tent, and his soft but lumpy bed roll in the corner. 

He recalls that he cried himself to sleep many times on that bed roll. 

He might have named it, but he doesn’t remember. 

He does remember the way the sunset made the inside of the tent too dark to see, and he thinks maybe that is when he became afraid of the dark. 

He remembers this place, and the memories that come from it turn his legs to jelly and his heart to ice. 

The swish of the tent flap confirms his fear. 

“You thought you could hide didn’t you?” Gaston almost purrs in his ear. 

Étienne tenses up. 

“You know your uncle told me before he passed why you were given to him? He let it slip over a beer with me. You’re lucky it was me. You know that, don’t you?” 

Étienne wants to cry, but he won’t not in front of Gaston. 

Gaston who is a man among men.

Gaston who is perfect.

Gaston who could hurt him.

Gaston who against his better judgement he loves. 

“You know you’re mine?” Gaston wraps an arm around him from behind. “You’re enjoying this.” 

Étienne doesn’t say anything. 

He’s not enjoying this at all, but he’s afraid to say so. 

And so, he says nothing.

It’s his second day here on the battle field and he can hear the cannons rumbling like a cloud waiting to thunder in the distance. He knows what’s coming, and his mind begs his body to run or struggle or do _something_. 

_Anything_ , his mind whispers, _anything but don’t go like this._

But, his body doesn’t know whether to fight or flee. 

Where would he go?

What would he say?

Gaston would use what he knows to ruin ‘Tienne. For, Gaston could say Étienne forced himself on Gaston.

And, Étienne knows the world would believe him. 

Gaston could persuade anyone of anything. 

And further more, ‘Tienne was here to provide Gaston pleasure, comfort, and aid him in what he could. 

That was his job. 

_But, not like this_ , he tells himself.

_But, what can I do_ , he asks himself.

_There’s nothing I can do_ , he laments to himself. 

So, he lets Gaston place a kiss in his hair loudly enough for Étienne to hear it. 

His earlier realization does nothing to stop him from tensing again. 

“You’ll love this I promise.” Gaston whispers into his ear. “And, I’m going to love making you squirm. The world will know you’re mine when I wrestle you into being a man. Don’t cry.” 

Gaston spins Étienne to face him and then Gaston’s hand meets Étienne’s cheek with a harsh smack. 

“You name dies here. Hm? You make it out of this war, and you are a fool. LeFou. Repeat after me: I am LeFou.” 

“I am LeFou.” Étienne whispers a few tears pricking his eyes as he holds his red cheek. 

Gaston leans down and pulls LeFou’s chin up into a gentle grasp. He leans down and kisses LeFou who melts into it almost against his will. 

Gaston throws him back. “You’re pathetic.” 

LeFou falls back on his hands, and he holds himself tight. 

There is hardly any light left in the tent. 

“Ca-can we light a candle? It’s dark,” LeFou asks. 

“Afraid of the dark?” Gaston laughs. “Good. I don’t want to see you, and I want you afraid. It’s better when you’re scared. You’re mine. You’re never going to remember any different.” 

LeFou shudders as Gaston’s menacing shadow splays itself across the floor. It looks like a beast, or a serpent, or a dragon for a moment as Gaston laughs. It curls its long darkness around him, and LeFou knows it’s ready to consume him. 

After a moment, Gaston moves towards LeFou. 

“You’re my closest companion.” Gaston sits cross-legged in front of LeFou with a seemingly genuine smile on his face. “Say that to me. No crying. With conviction.” 

Gaston taps his nose with each command. 

LeFou is starting to calm now. Gaston isn’t holding him. He isn’t humiliating him. They’re just friends. They’re close companions. LeFou secretly wants more than that somewhere deep inside himself, but not when Gaston forces him or humiliates him.

He has dignity. 

He pretends to have dignity. 

He wants to love Gaston, but he wants Gaston’s compassion in return. 

He wants compassion. 

Nothing more and nothing less than compassion.

“You’re my closest companion, Gaston.” LeFou smiles the last remaining light in their tent causing his eyes to shine with excitement. “I would do anything for you.” 

Gaston smiles and wraps his hand around LeFou’s neck pressing his forehead to LeFou’s. 

“Good.” Gaston places a kiss on LeFou’s forehead. “Now. I owe you something.” 

“You don’t owe me anything,” LeFou begins to get uncomfortable again.

“I can’t look at you when I give you what I owe you, but …” Gaston grasps LeFou’s shoulders hard with his hands. “You earned it.” 

LeFou tries to break away. “What are you giving me?” 

“Something to remember me by. A nice wrestling match.” Gaston winks. 

“I-I really don’t think that’s a good idea. What if we get caught?” 

“No one will come. You want it don’t you? You loved that kiss. Say it.” 

LeFou doesn’t want to because he didn’t love it. He hated it with ever fiber of his being. 

Nevertheless, he obeys. “I loved that kiss.”

“Kiss me again, Gaston. Say it.” Gaston leans in and backs LeFou into a dresser. 

“Kiss me again, Gaston.” LeFou repeats in an effort to get this over with.

Gaston presses his mouth up against LeFou’s and bites LeFou’s lower lip bruising it and breaking skin. 

LeFou feels tears rolling down his cheeks, but his mouth won’t say stop. 

His body betrays him, and Gaston chuckles pulling him closer.

“You must be enjoying this.” Gaston caresses LeFou’s jawline. 

LeFou knows what to say even if he doesn’t want to. 

“I’m enjoying this.” His voice is a deadpan and his eyes are loosing all of their luster.

LeFou’s heart beats rapidly as everything else happens in slow motion around him. He’s caught in a whirlwind of sensation as Gaston goes back to kissing him, but then begins kissing and biting his neck. 

At some point, Gaston must have forced him to lie down. 

He doesn’t remember it. 

He doesn’t remember most of that night. 

He cries a lot. 

He tries to fight off Gaston once, maybe? 

He doesn’t think Gaston goes further than pinning him down. 

He _never_ remembers. 

He’d spends the several minutes floating above himself. His soul ascends to a higher plane to save himself from remembering. He can’t feel his body anymore. He can’t hear Gaston’s roars to make it sound like they are “wrestling.” Étienne is so far gone at one point that he swears can see his body from the outside, and for that moment he can’t move it for he no longer inhabits it. 

LeFou is his shell, and so as Gaston says he’s LeFou now.

In so many ways, he is.

He is a fool. 

Étienne cries, and he’s powerless to stop. 

His tears are the last pleas he has to make this hell stop. 

Gaston bites the younger man’s stomach. 

That’s when Êtienne returns to his own body. 

He can feel the blood oozing out of the bite mark. He can see his own blood on Gaston’s teeth. It’s like watching some unholy vampiric fable come to life. 

Étienne’s first response is to want to clean it. He wants to stitch it. He wants it gone. 

“Leave it.” Gaston laughs spitting out the mouthful of blood. “Call it our wrestling match. Your first scar of manhood!” 

Étienne’s mind is cloudy this conversation and other’s he had with Gaston in that tent are clouding together. 

He feels sick.

****

Adam thinks he’ll read while Étienne finally gets some sleep. He is holding one of Étienne’s hands to keep him calm. For, Mme, Maestro, and Stanley had said ‘Tienne had some trouble sleeping last night. 

Mme had mentioned to Adam and Belle that Étienne said stomach hurt most of last night. All three had said that he’d been able to keep down a few sips of water throughout the night, but that ‘Tienne had said the cramps were bad. 

So, when Étienne shoots forward and starts gagging Adam isn’t too surprised. He grabs a basin and is kneeling at Étienne’s side in an instant. 

The packs of ice had been removed during the night, and Adam is immensely glad he doesn’t have to deal with them. He wishes Belle was here as she’d stepped out for a moment to see if Cogsworth was awake to fetch tonic for the cramps and see if they could settle Étienne’s stomach a little. 

“Easy. Easy.” He tucks a lock of Étienne’s hair behind his ear. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

Adam begins rubbing Étienne’s back with his hand. His copy of _Titus Andronicus_ long forgotten on the floor. He hadn’t gotten to the more graphic bits of the play yet, and, perhaps, that was a good thing given the circumstances. 

Étienne lets out a low moan curling into himself, but while that helps with the cramping pain in his stomach it pulls on the stitches and his inflamed side burns whenever he moves. So, Étienne grits his teeth and lets the tears fall down his cheeks. 

Adam helps Étienne uncurl himself after he moves the basin away, but keeps it close just in case. 

“‘Tienne? Tienne would you like me to hold you?” Adam asks with his hands cautiously hovering around Étienne’s shoulders. He stops touching ‘Tienne when Adam sees him tense up. “I need you to tell me what you want me to do.” 

Étienne is unsure whether he heard that right. 

“I’m right here. If you want me to help, I can. We don’t want you to have to carry this on your own. I’ll even sway or rock you if you’d like so you don’t pull on the wound as much. Would you like that?” Adam takes a step closer as Étienne nods his consent.

Adam slowly climbs into the bed his legs hanging off the right side. He wraps his arms around Étienne’s shoulders, and then Adam places Étienne’s head under his chin. 

“It’s soothing isn’t it?” Adam asks gently rocking Étienne while placing a hand on his temple. “There, there.” 

“‘m … ‘m so-sor …” Étienne bites down on his lip hard trying to keep from getting sick again.

Adam notices this, and loosens his grip on Étienne to grab the basin, and bring it just a little closer. 

Étienne tries to whisper his thanks but chokes on his words as his stomach rebells again. 

Adam holds Étienne’s hair in his left hand and softly rubs Étienne’s back with his right. Adam starts to hum softly when the retching and crying gets worse. 

“That’s it. It’s okay. Let it all out. That’s it,” Adam murmurs. “It’s going to pass. It’s all going to pass. Deep breaths _._ It’s going to be okay. Try breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. Good. That’s it.” 

Étienne cannot describe how grateful he is for Adam’s presence at that moment. He takes a few shuddering breaths as he tries to will the cramping pain in his stomach to stop. He finds his stomach calming down as Adam squeezes his shoulder, but the pain reappears with the force of a sledgehammer straight to his gut.

Adam feels the heaving begin again, and so he starts reciting. “ _Be not afeard; the/ isle is full of noises,/ Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not./Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments”_ Adam feels Étienne start sagging forward. Adam acts quickly and brings him back close. 

Adam remains reciting the monologue. “ _Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices/ That, if I then had waked after long sleep.”_

Adam feels Étienne begin to calm against him as he softly rocks back and forth careful of the stitches. “ _Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming,/ The clouds methought would open and show riches/ Ready to drop upon me that, when I waked,/ I cried to dream again._ ”

“’s it from?” Étienne presses up closer against the soft and strong chest that, for once in his life, truly seeks to protect him. 

“The Tempest. Caliban. Truly one of Shakespeare’s finest characters. I never thought so before, but being a beast … Caliban became a friend of mine.” Adam smiles tenderly and pushes a hand through Étienne’s hair when he feels Étienne take a fistful ofthe fabric at his shoulder. “Hamlet was always my favorite before my transformation. I fell out of favor with it shortly after.” 

“Teach me?” Étienne asked. “I want to have friends too.” 

Adam winces at the implication of those words. It’s a cry for help that Adam knows all too well. 

“Is this okay? Are you comfortable? Or do you need me to adjust you?” 

Étienne shakes his head. He was perfectly comfortable with his head in the crook of Adam’s neck and feeling safer and more protected than he had in a long time. 

“I dreamt about something awful.” Étienne feels tears pricking his eyes. 

“I know.” Adam whispers. “I know. You cried out about it. ’S why I asked.”

“Is this … is this kindness the way people are supposed to behave? Was I just unlucky?” Étienne shudders as a wave of pain washes over him. 

“I don’t know how many people behave as they ought, but my mother taught me that if the world was to _be_ _mine_ I should make it one I want to live in.” Adam continues to move back and forth slightly. 

The door creaks open. 

“Cogsworth is on his way up with some ginger tea mixed with something to try and calm the pain.” 

Belle kneels and reaches forward, but Adam shakes his head adamantly. 

She raises an eyebrow. 

Adam looks her in the eye and then looks down towards the forgotten play on the ground. 

Belle picks it up, and looks at the title. 

Her eyes widen. 

She points to Étienne and then to the copy of _Titus Andronicus._

Adam nods, and then his face goes dark. 

He looks at her pointedly, and then at the book. 

She shakes her head and comes to Adam’s side.

“Never to me,” she whispers breathless with tears. “No. Never to me.” 

Adam is grateful, but also angry. Étienne lets out a whimper, and Adam presses his hand against the back of the younger man’s head. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not going to hurt you.” Adam gently soothes while stroking Étienne’s hair. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Cogsworth comes through the door balancing the tea on a tray. 

He watches Adam holding Étienne and can’t help but marvel at the change in the crown prince’s behavior. 

“‘cite it again?” Étienne whispers. “Please?” 

Adam smiles and begins again. “ _Be not afeard; the/ isle is full of noises …”_

Belle closes her eyes for a moment before helping Cogsworth with the tray. 

“We’ll listen too, and then begin this. Hm? It’s been a while since I’ve had a private performance.” Cogsworth lets a smile spread across his face despite himself as he pulls Belle into his shoulder. 

She smiles too despite herself. 

Until, she realizes, she is still holding Adam’s, well technically her, copy of _Titus Andronicus._ She lets a single tear slip down her cheek because she’s so lucky. She’s so lucky this isn’t _her_ nightmare. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup ... I went there. Sorry folks. I needed to write this chapter. Not sure why, but I did. I hope everyone was able to see the warning at the beginning of the chapter and avoid what needed avoiding if that applies to you. I'm well aware that there are MANY fics that illustrate these tragedies in far more detail, but this is about as much detail as I want to read/write, and I even felt like I overstepped the bounds on a few things. Hence, my considering this graphic. 
> 
> Also, LeFou has been under the lock and key of his uncle till this point (more on this later). So, when Gaston steals or destroys his identity he really destroys it. "LeFou" before was really a nickname, but now it becomes his identity. So, yeah ... seedy. 
> 
> I try to be courteous around this topic because while it's important to write. It's difficult for me as the writer to write about these moments of vulnerability and I'm sure they are FAR from easy to read. 
> 
> And now for the Easter Eggs:
> 
> I hid a reference to Smaug in Gaston's shadow. I mention it being serpent or dragon like, and this is a reference to Luke Evan's role as Bard the Bowman who killed that nasty creepy dragon. 
> 
> I also hid a reference to vampires in there because Luke Evans also played Dracula in Dracula Untold. 
> 
> (Honestly was my coping mechanism in writing that scene was to see how many of Luke Evans's roles I could reference in it.)
> 
> Titus Andronicus is one of Shakespeare's most violent plays. But, the reason Adam uses it as code with Belle is because the play includes a rape scene in which the character Lavina has her tongue cut out and her hands severed off so she can't name her assailants. They eventually do find out the identity of the men who hurt her, but not until she has (I think) tree branches attached as claws to write their names. 
> 
> The monologue Adam recites is from The Tempest. This is by far my favorite monologue Shakespeare ever wrote. The character who recites it is Caliban who is the humanoid, but mostly monstrous son of Sycorax the witch who traps Ariel in a tree. Ariel is the favored servant of Prospero and Caliban is treated like absolute crap after he tries to pursue Miranda. Caliban spends most of the play trying to get back at Prospero for all the abuse. One of the ways Prospero tortures Caliban is through terrible cramps in his stomach. (Perks of having read it multiple times and having to prepare to teach it.) 
> 
> I had to chuck in an reference to Cosgworth really enjoying Shakespeare as Sir Ian McKellen has acted in SO many Shakespearean plays. (I had to study King Lear for IB English my senior year of high school, and the only way I understood the play was by watching him play Lear. I CRY!!!! It's the PBS/Royal Shakespeare in the US it was made into the TV movie by Masterpiece Theater -- I think?) 
> 
> So, that does it for the Easter Eggs.
> 
> Speaking of Easter! Have a wonderful Easter weekend! If I don't post new chapters, I'm with family, or, because I'm Catholic, half this weekend I'll be at Mass. I should still be able to get to my Inbox though. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	18. The Changling and His Beauty

Cogsworth is happy when Étienne manages to keep down the ginger tea. Étienne nestles himself into Adam’s shoulder while the spices work on calming cramps. Étienne's stomach burns and hurts much worse at first, but then he closes his eyes as his stomach settles.  His breathing begins to even out as he  rests peacefully against Adam’s shoulder. 

Cogsworth remains kneeling on the ground next to the bed until he’s sure Étienne is asleep. 

“Maurice and Mr. and Mrs. Potts should come to relieve you within the next few hours. They went to town with Chapeau to get some things. If you should need me, I will be entertaining Lumière and Chip in the kitchen.” He looks to each one of them. “If he fusses, try to get him to take a bit more tea but don’t force it. If you feel the fever rise, get me immediately. It’s gone down some since last night, but if it gets much higher than where it peaked yesterday it could be dangerous.” 

Cogsworth gets up and pats Adam on the shoulder, and gives Belle a quick hug as he leaves. 

Belle looks down at the play again. “I can’t tell for certain if ‘Tienne prevented me from Lavina’s fate by letting Gaston have his way with him, but I can say for certain that ‘Tienne was the reason that Gaston didn’t …” 

She breaks off almost in tears. 

Belle wonders why she’s crying. She doesn’t really have a right to cry does she? And yet, she’s so overwhelmed by the thoughts that Gaston could have easily taken advantage of her, if not for Étienne. So, she can’t help but cry as sadness, grief, and anger overtake her. 

Adam pats his other shoulder, and she half glides into his embrace. 

“I hate being weak,” she whispers. “I hate feeling week. I hate crying.” 

“It’s not weakness to cry. Nor is it a weakness to be afraid of someone who could easily hurt you. In my humble opinion, that’s just common sense.” 

Belle smiles through her tears. 

“As long as your fear doesn’t turn to stupidity.” He continues as he lifts her chin, “No one shall judge you for it.” 

She looks at him sideways for a moment. 

It doesn’t take her long before she realizes he’s talking about his own response to the beggar woman Enchantress Agathe. 

“I was stupid Belle. Selfish and stupid. I looked at an old woman with the gift of a rose and saw guillotines. I was afraid. I let my fear get the better of me. But you, Étienne, Stanley, and your father … you were and are truly fearless.” He shakes his head and nuzzles Étienne for emphasis that he’s included in his explanation. 

Étienne, in turn, leans further into Adam. 

Belle looks at him with realization etched into every line on her face. “You were afraid of a new Bastille? Adam that … that wasn’t stupid. I can’t believe the Enchantress herself didn’t think on it.” 

“She prevented a Bastille, Belle. I taxed the surrounding villages mercilessly. She prevented all of it from happening again. She prevented this,” he nods his head towards Étienne, “from happening again. I deserved it. I know that because it taught me something. Letting yourself fall prey to Gaston wouldn’t have taught you anything!” 

He calms his voice when Étienne whimpers and pulls further into him. 

“It didn’t teach ‘Tienne anything but obedience and self-loathing. If you had been in his place, you would not have saved me. You would not be who you are. You would have been changed, and as much as you saved me you can save him too. Gaston and your blasted village left you both with wounds on your souls. He may have never done to you what he did to ‘Tienne, but in so many ways you are both the same. Gaston grabbed your skirts, he stalked you, he humiliated you and your father, and that leaves scars, Belle.” 

She’s crying fresh tears into his shoulder as he strokes her hair lightly. 

“Why are you right?” She sobs falling to her knees and clinging to him. “Why do you have to be right? How could you possibly know that?” 

“Because,” he pauses unsure of how to phrase this, “Because I see details no one else sees. I just have a habit of knowing things I’m not supposed to know, and I put details together in ways no one else seems to be able to. That’s a curse no Enchantress placed on me, and a curse one no one will ever be able to break. I’ve tried. My father tried. But, the sounds, noises, colors, and ideas never stop linking together one after the other.” 

Belle looks at him with slight concern as he stares off into the distance at the door. She can tell he’s not really looking at the door, but, instead, he almost seems like he’s looking through it. 

“I watch. I listen. I read. I observe. I make an inference. I repeat. I’m like your washing machine.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I’m just as strange as you are, _cherie_ , but in a whole different way. My father tried to change it. He told me I was a changling child from the forest. That his prince, his hard, manly, strong, intelligent prince had been stolen by the fairies and replaced with me.”

Belle stares at him. She had heard wives in the village talk about her that way. She had heard wives in the village talk about their own children that way. They discussed how something had snatched their perfect child and replaced it with something else. 

Never someone. 

Always something. 

“My father promised only he could train the fey out of me. He told me he could bring me back, but I knew I’d never left. He taught me to doubt that I existed and sometimes I still wonder if I’m even real. My spirit ascends out of me and floats above me for hours and I-I can’t come back.” Adam looks at Étienne’s sleeping form. 

“We’re all a mess,” Adam laughs to himself, “We’re all such a mess. But, we belong to and with each other. And, what I can’t understand and fix in myself you can help me understand, and when you struggle he,” Adam nods to Étienne, “can help you to mend.”

Belle begins to smile as Adam becomes more adamant. His eyes shine as he talks to the door across the room once more. 

“Lumière and Cogsworth, Mme and Maestro’s family, the Potts family, your father, and us three all help balance each other out. What one person can’t do someone else can. I figured that out after years of sitting here alone in the dark, and being angry because I couldn’t figure out how to remember where I was in the world. After I became a beast, I-I,” Adam shakes his head unsure of the words, “I went into a world all my own. I watched myself from above for days on end. I thought of trying to end it all. I tried to remember who I was before my spirit forgot where my body was and couldn't return.” 

She places a hand on his arm as if trying to call him back to himself. 

“Then, you came, and you left. But, you came back. You found me, and as you said, now, we’re together. We’ll pull through this, and not just us two. All of us will. This whole damn household will make it out of this mess. I will not let that Scottish-play-quoting, rifle wielding, manipulative peacock ruin anymore lives.”

Belle has to laugh at that last statement. She kisses Adam on the lips gently. “That was quite clever of you. I quite like that description.” 

He smiles at her, and holds her close again. She grows uncomfortable with the way her neck is positioned and drops back to her knees by the bedside. She lays her head on Adam’s unoccupied knee, but part of her cheek is also resting on one of Étienne’s knees.

Adam runs his left hand through her hair, and his right arm remains wrapped protectively around Étienne. 

They sit that way for the better part of an hour. Adam and Belle begin to doze, and Étienne is peacefully sleeping. It’s almost exactly an hour later when Adam realizes Étienne is shaking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write something happy this chapter, but my lovely friend Proudnerdfighter3 has decided to send me on the angst train. 
> 
> You can thank them for the angsty Adam and Belle you have received. 
> 
> Proudnerdfighter this is only the beginning of the payback I promised you. ;) 
> 
> I'm still reeling over the lovely (but angsty as all get out) one-shot series they're working on which is called "The War on My Soul." Go read it!!!! They aren't long but they're so good. 
> 
> Be forewarned, however, even I could barely handle this angst and I seek out angst for fun. 
> 
> I enjoy emotionally torturing myself. 
> 
> :D (This is the smiley face of dead inside.) 
> 
> This chapter does not really have Easter Eggs unless I hid them so well even I couldn't find them. 
> 
> But I DO have a fun fact! YAY!
> 
> Fun fact: Many psychoanalytical literary scholars today believe that the myths of "changling children" are actually ancient depictions of cases of ADD, ADHD, and/or Autism. However, most scholars agree that the myth of the changling child finds more basis in being a representation of autism. The changling child myth sounds eerily similar to how "autism warrior mommies TM" talk about autism "stealing their children" in the same way old wives would talk about the fey folk taking babies. These theories provide some proof that these disorders and disabilities most likely did exist prior to the invention of modern psychology. However, not having terms to explain these neurological differences people turned to the supernatural to explain why children behaved the way they did. 
> 
> Therefore, when I reference the changling myth and the fey this is what I'm referencing. 
> 
> Long story short, Adam is autistic. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	19. Lavender's Blue/ If You Love Me/ I Will Love You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harry was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where he slept." ~J. K. Rowling "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's (Philosopher's) Stone"

It’s dark and damp. 

Étienne doesn’t remember how he got here, but his back stings. 

And, it’s damp.

And, it’s very, very dark. 

His heart leaps into his throat, and he pounds on the door. 

He hears someone’s footsteps above him.

Ascending footsteps cause sawdust to fall from above like snow.

He remembers mistaking it for snow the first night he slept here. 

He almost choked. 

He's learned better now. 

He’ll be here all night, and he knows it.

Once the stumbling footsteps ascend they never come back down. 

His back hurts, and so he tries to rub it. But, when he touches it it stings worse. 

He pulls his hand away and blood coats his small fingers. 

He somehow knows that they will scar crisscrossed and jagged like lightening. 

These are his involuntary stripes of courage. 

The metal was cold, he remembers. 

The belt buckle was always cold. 

Étienne panics suddenly at the crushing darkness and scoots into the corner of the room. 

He draws his knees further up to his chest. 

He bites his lip to keep from crying out as he leans against the damp walls. 

The wooden walls are rotting. 

He knows because he can smell the musk surrounding the room.

He can feel the dirty ground beneath his stocking feet, and the wetness of the dirt beneath him penetrates the layers of clothing he has on. 

He tries sitting on his hands, but eventually they go numb. 

Étienne sits up for a moment, but the darkness is crushing. 

He tries to ignore it. 

He hums to himself trying to remember what _maman_ would hum when he was afraid. He keeps trying to breathe, to hum, and stay calm. 

But, the darkness is crushing.

The darkness wraps around him like a wizard's noose. 

His hands start shaking as he draws further into himself. 

He tries to stand, but he’s too tall now. 

He hits his head on the bottom of the fifth stair. 

He falls to his knees hard against the soggy ground. 

His hand smacks the ground as a squish escapes from the earth. 

He clenches his hand as he feels the mud soak into his sleeves.

His wrists are coated in the dirt, and for a moment it soothes him. 

His hair has come loose and his eyes are wide. 

He shivers with cold, and his back still hurts. 

He wants _maman,_ but he killed her. 

He kissed the boy around the back of the house. 

He killed her. 

He runs a mud soaked hand through his hair. 

He tries not to cry but he fails. 

His right arm tremors and threatens to let him fall into the sopping ground. 

His back hurts, and he wants to get out of the room.

He rushes over to the door again, but it’s locked.

He pounds on it.

He bangs on it.

He screams at it.

He sobs into it.

He can’t breathe. 

He wants to get out.

He can’t get out.

Why won’t someone let him out?

He tries to cry or scream, but there’s no air. 

He has to breathe, but there’s no more air.

The darkness chokes him, and for a moment he’d rather be burnt at the stake than choke like this. 

The whip marks against his back burn, but so does his side.

He’s choking, but there’s no one in the cupboard under the stairs to save him.

He’s so alone. 

And, he can’t breathe. 

*****

Adam feels Étienne shaking against his shoulder. “Étienne? Wake up. It’s just a dream.” 

It takes a moment before Adam realizes that Étienne is pulling for air. 

“Belle.” He takes his left hand off of Étienne’s shoulder to shake her awake. “Belle, wake up.” 

She opens her eyes groggily. “What … What happened?” 

Belle springs to attention when she sees Étienne huddled against Adam. Étienne’s entire body is wracked with tremors and he is breathing quickly. 

“I have no idea what to do,” Adam confesses as he strokes Étienne’s hair trying to calm him. 

“Papa used to use lavender when I was afraid of storms. I keep some lavender oils in my room. We could try it. His fever’s still down right?” 

“He doesn't feel much warmer than before to me,” Adam states, “I think it’s wise to try to calm him first. We’ll get Cogsworth if he doesn’t improve within the hour.” 

She nods and rests a hand against Étienne’s back. “‘Tienne try to breathe with Adam, honey, okay?” 

Étienne shudders again tears escaping his eyes as Adam rocks and hushes him. 

“Easy,” Adam murmurs, “Breathe with me.” 

Étienne tries, but he can’t do it. 

He’s not even sure where he is. 

“How are you fitting in the closet?” He pants.

“What?” Adam looks confused but presses his cheek further into Étienne’s hair. “What closet?” 

Étienne tries to answer but breaks off into deep coughs that send fresh tremors through his body. Adam rubs Étienne’s back as the coughing gets harder and worse. 

“In and out, ‘Tienne. In and out.” Adam breathes as evenly as possible. 

“I-in the stairs,” Étienne eventually whimpers. “He puts me in there when I’m bad. I killed his sister. I’m bad a lot. It hurts.” 

Adam pushes back locks of Étienne’s hair. “What hurts, ‘Tienne?” 

“My chest.” Étienne grits his teeth hard and lets out a soft almost half-grunt in pain. “It’s … it’s so hard to breathe.”

Étienne takes a particularly painful gasp, and Adam rubs his back softly. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Thank you for telling me.”

Adam doesn’t know what else to do except whisper words of comfort and praise while stroking Étienne’s sweat soaked hair and rubbing his back.

Belle pushes the door open.

She kneels next to the bed so that Étienne’s back is facing her. “Sweetheart, I need to remove your sleeping shirt.” 

Étienne tenses. “No. Please leave it on.” 

“‘Tienne it’s okay,” Adam whispers, “We have some lavender oil. It smells really nice. It’s going to help you calm down okay?” 

Belle comes around to face Étienne and rubs a small amount of the oil on her fingers. She places her fingers on his temples and gently rubs the oil there. 

Étienne can’t help but notice that the lavender does help him calm down a little, and it smells so nice. But, his chest still hurts. His lungs hurt, and he can’t get air in except in quick breaths. He really doesn’t want Belle or anyone to see his back. It’s ugly, and littered with scars that he deserves. They'll know what a monster he is by the scars on his back. 

“I want to rub some on your back ‘Tienne. It might loosen your chest and help you breathe. It would be better to have something with mint in it, but it might help.” She gently runs the last of the remaining oils into his hair as she laces her fingers through Étienne’s hair. 

“No.” He shakes his head. “You can’t.” 

She looks at him sideways for a moment. “Étienne there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Just let us help you, okay. I won't judge you.” 

“Please, I just,” Étienne curls further into Adam, "I don't want you to see it." 

She decides to drop the subject for now, but she can’t help but notice how his chest is still pulling, and how, when he speaks, he sounds short of breath. 

Adam holds Étienne close and resumes rocking him as he had early that day. Étienne’s breathing is still slightly labored even as he falls back to sleep against Adam’s chest. 

It’s very shortly after that Adam feels the fever rise, and Étienne half wakes as he cries out. “I want _maman_.” 

Adam hushes Étienne gently, and he sends Belle running for the kitchen as soon as he looks at her with concern written on his features. 

Belle reads his face with ease, and, even if she couldn’t, she feels the feverish heat as she lays her hand on Étienne’s shoulder. 

Adam rocks him slowly murmuring the words to Caliban’s speech over and over into Étienne’s ear. 

“I want _maman_! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to kill her! I want her back! I’ll be good! I wanna be good! I'll hide myself! I promise! Please!” Étienne wheezes breathlessly. 

“I know. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. You don’t have to hide anymore. Hush now. It’s okay,” Adam whispers breaking off the third round of the monologue. “It’s okay.” 

“I want my _maman_ back!” Étienne wraps his arms around Adam tightly. "I want her back! If I could bring her back I would!" 

“I miss mine too sometimes.” Adam confesses as he curls a loose a lock of hair behind ‘Tienne’s ear. “I know. It’s so hard.” 

Étienne nods and his chest continues to pull quicker. “I miss her so much. I-I’m sorry! I want to trade places with her! Please, just end it! Please!” 

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” Adam doesn’t know if he’s speaking to Étienne or to himself anymore. "I'll be here. We'll be safe together. I promise. I won't let them hurt you." 

“I-I didn’t mean it!” Étienne’s sobs grow harder and his knuckles go white clutching the fabric of Adam’s shirt. 

Adam hopes Belle and Cogsworth hurry because he’s frightened. 

“Please! Please, stop!” Étienne cries. “I don’t wanna go under the stairs! Please, please put the belt back!” 

Étienne pants harder snuggling deeper into Adam’s chest. Étienne’s entire body is shuddering as he shivers violently with each breath.

Adam clutches Étienne close to him. “It’s okay. There’s no belt. There’s no stairs. Well, there are lots of stairs. But no closets. No cupboards. It’s just me. You’re safe.” 

Adam feels tears slipping down his own cheeks as he holds Étienne’s shaking sobbing form close to him. 

Adam tries to think of a new speech, but the only one that comes to him is Caliban’s. He’s not sure if it’s because he loves it or because Étienne kept asking him to repeat it earlier that day. Étienne begs him to keep talking, and so Adam won’t stop. He just keeps saying the same words over and over and over again. Half to calm himself, and half because he’s afraid if he stops Étienne might disappear. 

That’s how Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth find them. They see them holding each other close and crying in each other’s embrace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your response to Adam in particular was so wonderful I felt the need to keep writing him. I was kind of going to do it anyway, but I felt so much more confident after the wonderful response you all gave. 
> 
> The major players are coming back in now (Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, Maurice, 'Tienne, Stanley) as this moves in a direction I thought about going and now have sort of officially committed myself to. I had approximately two ways this was going to go. 
> 
> Way One: the easy way. I don't challenge myself and everything is happy light and fluffy after a few days of fever fighting and two weeks worth of bed rest. 
> 
> Way Two: the hard way. I challenge myself to go to the darkest places I can think of as a writer and take my readers there with me. I'll be exploring more medicine than I ever have, and really trying to capture the feeling of the barebones descriptions you find on a symptoms tag. 
> 
> I chose path two mostly because you all have been such great sports about how I write that I felt confident enough to try something a bit more difficult. So, hopefully I don't disappoint. 
> 
> And now ...
> 
> Easter Eggs:
> 
> Someone (Crossoverfan I think it was you) that Étienne's uncle reminded you of Vernon Dursley. I couldn't tell you how right you were at the time. So, I've littered the dream scape with references to Harry Potter (wizards noose, cupboard under the stairs, lighting scars). 
> 
> That was the big one this chapter, but I've also expanded on Adam. 
> 
> What Adam ends up doing with Caliban's speech could be a sort of kind of form of echolalia. It's not really true echolalia because that is defined as meaningless repetition of another person's spoken words. Key Words there: Spoken Words. However, some, particularly autistic, individuals might repeat quotes from movies, plays, books, songs, etc. over and over to calm themselves down. (My go to is "So do all who see such times but it is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.") The fact that the speech is repeated multiple times could be characteristic of echolalia, but is also a form of stimming (repetitive self-soothing behavior). I wouldn't be surprised if Adam actually has a few of these speeches in his repertoire, but under stress could only recall the one. 
> 
> Anywho. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	20. Like Lear I Shall Die of a Broken Heart

Cogsworth moves quickly to Adam’s side. “I’m going to take him for a moment okay? But, I need you to help him into my arms so he knows you won’t be here, and I will. Can you help me with that, Adam?” 

Adam nods. It seems clear enough. “Étienne? ‘Tienne, Cogsworth wants to hold you. Will you let him take you for awhile?” 

Étienne simply clings closer to Adam. “Please, don’t leave me.” 

“I’m not going to leave you. Not really, my friend, you'll remember him in a moment, is going to take my place. He’ll even recite for you if you want. He’s even better than I am.” 

Adam stroke’s Étienne’s hair as Mrs. Potts sometimes had when he was a child it was one of the few things he would accept for comfort in his later years.

“Étienne?” Cogsworth gently lays a hand on Étienne’s shoulder. “Will you let me hold you?” 

Étienne’s eyes are slowly clearing and his breathing becomes more even but still fast. He sees Cogsworth, and the realization that Étienne knows who Cogsworth is washes over him. Étienne nods slowly, and Cogsworth and Adam carefully switch places. 

Adam runs into Mrs. Potts’ embrace. 

“It’s alright now. You were so brave,” she whispers holding Adam close to her. 

Cogsworth adjusts Étienne so that he’s hip to hip with him. He lets Étienne sort of fall naturally from there. 

“There we are now.” Cogsworth wraps his right arm around Étienne’s shoulder and guides Étienne’s head down to Cogworth’s shoulder. “That’s it, my boy. Hm? Easy breaths. Try and slow them down if you can.” 

Étienne nods, but its hard. “It hurts. My chest. Hurts.” 

Cogsworth nods so that Étienne can feel his response. He rubs Étienne’s shoulder. “I know, my boy. But, I need you to calm down. It’ll make it hurt less if you try and slow your breathing.” 

Cogsworth whispers comforting words into Étienne’s ear as he struggles to regain himself. Cogsworth rubs Étienne’s back as he helps him right himself enough to try and regain his breath when it becomes irregular again. 

It takes a solid quarter hour for Étienne’s breathing to truly return to normal, and afterwards Étienne looks exhausted. His eyes drop closed and his head falls back against Cogsworth’s shoulder. 

Cogsworth notices how exhausted his charge looks. He notes the dark circles under Étienne’s eyes and how the feverish flush across Étienne’s cheeks has grown in contrast with almost translucent nature of Étienne’s skin. Étienne’s very close to sleeping when Cogsworth takes one of his hands. 

“Go downstairs to the others,” Cogsworth states to Adam and Mrs. Potts, “Beatrice bring up some more ice. I want to avoid drawing an ice bath if we can help it, but I’m not above it if he worsens. I just don’t think he needs to go through that yet. The trauma of it will do far more harm than good.” 

Adam shudders remembering when they’d put his mother’s thrashing form into a tub filled with ice water. She screamed with the cold as they tried to cool her fever. 

Mrs. Potts nods. “Should I return then?” 

“In the hour, I want everyone more alert when they watch over him now. We’ll take shifts every hour on the half hour that way we’re guaranteed to be awake if he worsens. No dozing, we can’t afford to miss a second.” Cogsworth gently squeezes Étienne’s hand. “But, I’m going to move myself to Lumière’s room. I doubt he’ll mind me on a mattress on the floor.” 

“He’ll probably ask you do do what you both did when he first moved here.” Mrs. Potts smiles fondly at the memory of Cogsworth sleeping on his back with Lumière curled up on his chest. 

“He’s too old for that now and so am I. I’ll tell him that too.” Cogsworth chuckles lightly half to himself. 

Mrs. Potts guides Adam out of the room while Adam takes one look back at his head of house and his friend. 

“Do Lear,” Adam says pulling the thought almost from the ether. “You would have made a good Lear.” 

Cogsworth smiles widely. “What and call him my Cordelia?”

“Lumière told me that you used to call him that when he was really little.”

“When did that come up?” Cogsworth is genuinely confused. 

“We spent an evening chatting while I was cursed. He tried to cheer me up by telling me stories about you two before I was born.” 

“Did it work?” Cogsworth raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, but he never explained why none of those stories began before he was five.” Adam’s inflection betrays his curiosity. 

“It’s his story to tell, poppet.” Mrs. Potts stops the conversation there. “Come now, lets go downstairs now shall we?” 

The door clicks closed and Cogsworth’s mind returns to Étienne sleeping in his arms. It was clear to him that Étienne loved to hold and be held especially when he was hurting. He’d keep that in mind long after this experience. He has no idea what the next few weeks hold much less the rest of Étienne’s stay in the castle. 

Something inside Cogsworth tells him that even if Étienne escapes this with nothing but a scar physically, which he doubts, then emotionally the young man may never fully recover. 

Étienne whimpers and draws closer to Cogsworth. 

Cogsworth gently lifts their joined hands into his lap. “So, you like Shakespeare, hm?” 

Cogsworth smiles sadly. “I always did too you know? I so desperately wanted to act, and leave my small village. I wanted the adventures and different lives the characters in plays had to offer. But, I’m like you more than you know. And, to save me from damnation, they forced me to learn a different art and craft so that I could ascend the social ladders where I would be safer than on the stage. A young woman took a liking to me, and my parents leapt at the opportunity to marry me off.  My mother explained it was for my protection. And, my wife seemed fine at first, but then she found what power she held over me. She was lonely and hurting, and I was lonely and terrified. It was a poor match if ever one was made.” 

Cogsworth has no idea why he’s telling Étienne this story. He thinks, perhaps, it is because he knows Étienne is asleep and won’t hear or remember it. He needs to confess, and he believes he's no longer welcome in churches. 

“We moved here when Clothilde applied me for the position. Before then, I’d worked as a man’s servant at Versailles. There were so many men in the court who’d tried to court me. I tried to refuse, but, as Clothilde grew more angry and bitter at my lack of desire for her physically, my eyes grew to wander. I fell madly in love with a young noble. Louis Alexandre de La Rochefoucauld d’Enville was his name. He married twice, but we both knew better. He was executed in the Terror — I found out here. I often wish I could have seen him for a last time, but that’s beside the point,” Cogsworth takes in a few shaky breaths, “my point is I want to give you all the happiness I couldn’t have. If it’s within my power, I will give you the world.” 

Cogsworth squeezes Étienne’s hand again, and Cogsworth smiles. 

“I suppose you would enjoy a bit of Shakespeare after all of this ordeal yeah? We’ll have to get you up and reciting some verse sometime soon. We’ll teach you to read it, and, in your case, if what your friend Stanley has said is true, the performance aspects won’t be at all a problem.” Cogsworth chuckles to himself. 

Étienne’s hand goes to his chest, and he gives a small whimper of pain. 

“Now, now, don't grab like that. You'll hurt yourself.” Cogsworth gently removes Étienne’s hand from the fabric. 

He begins to sway him again slowly and gently. “ _No, no, no, no! Come, let’s away to prison./ We two alone will sing like birds i' th' cage./ When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down/ And ask of thee forgiveness. So we’ll live,/ And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh/ At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues/ Talk of court news, and we’ll talk with them too—/ Who loses and who wins, who’s in, who’s out—/ And take upon ’s the mystery of things/ As if we were God’s spies. And we’ll wear out/ In a walled prison packs and sects of great ones/ That ebb and flow by the moon._ ” 

Cogsworth holds Étienne close as he thinks about the words of the speech and what they mean. He knows where this falls in the play. He knows that shortly after this Cordelia will die, and Lear will die as well from his grief. Somehow, Cogsworth knows if Étienne’s plot should follow Cordelia’s than Cogsworth knows he will pass like Lear as well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautiful readers! 
> 
> I'm dropping some hints about Cogsworth which was painful but absolutely delightful to write. My little sister and I saw the movie with my family again over last weekend and she and I had to laugh at how much Cogsworth is actually me. Especially because as kids she used to blame literally everything on me. XD 
> 
> The historical figure I chose to pair Cogsworth with was in fact a real person who was really executed by Robespierre. He was married twice, but he had children with either wife. I thought that was interesting to play with. I, sadly, didn't do too much looking into him, but, if someone wants to look him up and get back to me, feel free. For once, I picked kind of at random, so sorry no historical fun facts. 
> 
> :,( (The crying emoji of disappointment.) 
> 
> But, this brings up something I feel like I have to say especially after the brutal nature of chapter 17. I've noticed that a lot of people are doing Real People Fanfiction in our fandom, and, while I can't stop people from writing it, I just want to insure that in NO way, NO shape, and NO form am I using this fanfction to say ANYTHING positive OR negative about the actors who brought these beautiful characters to life. 
> 
> I just find it really disturbing the way people treat the actors behind characters in live-action film in general. I've seen people ship Martin Freeman with far too many of his costars because I happen to read both Hobbit and BBC Sherlock fan fiction. 
> 
> When I hide Easter Eggs in a chapter, half the time, I'm as surprised as you all are. Very few of my "Easter Eggs" (with the exception of the line from Frozen in chapter 5, the vampire reference in 17, and this chapter's reference to King Lear) were intentional. 
> 
> I've mentioned to a few of you that, for my own reasons, I have quite an attachment to The Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit and several Disney movies. I quote these movies to my friends in daily conversation, and so I'm never surprised when lines from those films or references to them appear in my fic. 
> 
> Therefore, I would like to make public and official that in NO WAY are my "Easter Eggs" meant to have you, the reader, view any of my writing of the Beauty and the Beast characters as any one of his/her/their actors. 
> 
> Ever. 
> 
> Period.
> 
> Again, the reason I bring this up is because on tumblr and AO3 I've seen a disturbing number of RPF. I know the actors in my fandoms: The Hobbit+LOTR/Les Miserables/Hamilton/Harry Potter/Beauty and the Beast/Fantastic Beasts/BBC Sherlock have super awesome interviews with each other. They work really well together, and that's super awesome because it shows that they are fantastic people. But, we have to respect that they are real human beings with real lives too, and part of that respect is not manipulating their lives fictionally for our pleasure. 
> 
> I think this fandom is super great, but this is something I've been thinking about for awhile across several fandoms. I don't know. I'm really bad at this stuff, but it really frustrates me to find RPF while I look for fic to read, because, contrary to popular belief, I don't just write fic. 
> 
> *joking I know you all know that I read fic because I comment on it all the time :D* 
> 
> But, anyway my soap box rant is over ... and on toooooo THE EASTER EGGS!!!! 
> 
> Easter Eggs: 
> 
> If you missed it in there King Lear is the big one this chapter. This throw away holds a big place in my heart, because I actually had ZERO idea what was going on in that play until I watched it. I saw the PBS version (I may have mentioned this) when I was a senior in high school. Sir Ian McKellen played Lear in it, and just by watching it it went from one of my LEAST favorite plays to one of my favorites. I just had to quote it because this is one of my favorite speeches in the play. :D 
> 
> I actually think that's the only one I remember putting in/ finding in this chapter.
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	21. Always and Always

Mrs. Potts walks into the room and gently kneels next to Cogsworth. 

She places an ice pack on the top Étienne’s head and adjusts it gently. “How is he?” 

“Not well.” He gently lies Étienne back on the two fluffed up pillows against the headboard. “I’m fairly certain he’s contracted blood poisoning from the infection or the knife. But, the suddenness of it leads me to believe it was the knife. He’s finally a little calmer than he was. But, we’ll need to watch his heart and breathing closely over the next few weeks.” 

Cogsworth gently tucks the blankets around Étienne’s shoulders, and gives Étienne’s shoulder a gentle squeeze once he’s satisfied. 

“How should I fetch you if I need you?” She asks gently settling herself in next to Étienne’s bedside. 

“Knock on the wall. I sleep lightly. I’ll hear it.” He opens the door and leaves the room. 

Mrs. Potts looks Étienne over and just shakes her head. His lips are chapped, and his cheeks look almost slapped raw with the fever. His eyes are marred with dark circles and look almost bruised, and his face has grown slightly sunken. 

She leans in and drops a kiss on his forehead. She looks over to the table near the bed. She sees the half finished cup of tea from earlier, and a few glasses of mostly finished water. She sees a new empty basin had replaced the one from earlier, and that there are two fresh wash basins filled with water, and some clean rags. She takes one of the fresh rags and rings it out. She gently washes Étienne’s forehead and the back of his neck with the damp cloth humming slightly under her breath. 

Étienne lets out a soft sob in his sleep, and she can feel his forehead crinkle with the pain. So, she sits on the bed next to him and gently lifts him onto her shoulder as Cogsworth and Adam had both done. 

Étienne nuzzles into the warm body and settles back into sleep soon after. 

Mrs. Potts gently presses her hand to the back of Étienne’s head, and varies the amount of pressure against his head slightly every few minutes. She can feel the ice against her shoulder, but she doesn’t mind it. She eventually moves to massaging the back of his neck and putting pressure against his scalp with her fingers as she runs them through his hair. 

“Once, when M. Adam was very small, shortly after his mother died, he was so sick from grief I used to hold him like this every night to keep him from waking his father. If his father woke, it would spell disaster for him. So, I would sneak into his chambers after feeding Chip and kissing Mr. Potts goodnight. And, I would hold him just like this. I bet you never had anyone to hold you after your _maman_ passed did you? Well, you have me now. Hm? So, we’ll make up for lost time.” She presses her chin to his feverish temple. 

She stares out at the wall and thinks. She thinks about Chip mostly, and how he’d been asking her endlessly when the man who saved them would be well enough to play. Chip who asks her why she stays in Étienne’s room so much, and Chip who asks so often why he isn’t allowed to help. She thinks about her husband and the shame he feels about how poorly this has gone. She thinks about how much hatred she feels towards the Enchantress for, she has comes to realize, the curse not only effected those living in the castle but also those outside of it. Surely, had her husband been able to remember her and his son, he would have been less likely to go along with Gaston so blindly. This boy in her arms would not be so poorly off, and yet, she knows he would. 

She’s so torn for, perhaps, he would not be dying physically had the curse never happened. However, he would still be caught inside Gaston’s snare, and when Étienne’s grief caused him to perish or leave Villeneuve Gaston would have preyed on Mlle Belle. She doesn’t know what to do, or if anything could have been changed that would have made it better. She doesn’t know who to blame, but surely she doesn’t blame Étienne. 

She found it much the same as her difficulty placing the blame of the curse entirely on M. Adam. Yes, M. Adam had offended the sorceress who cursed them, but she had a hard time saying it was Adam's fault. 

She’s drawn from her thoughts as Étienne begins shivering against her, and so, she wraps more blankets around his shoulders. She runs her hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him and stop the shaking. 

“ _Come stop your crying/ It will be all right/ Just take my hand/ Hold it tight._ ” She gently takes one of Étienne’s shaking hands. “ _I will protect you from all around you/ I will be here/ Don’t you cry._ ” 

She gently begins to rock him as she continues singing softly to him. “ _For one so small,/ you seem so strong/ My arms will hold you/ Keep you safe and warm/ This bond between us can't be broken/ I will be here /Don’t you cry_.” 

She pauses a moment to think about how his hands wrapped around her tea pot form and saved her despite the pain it must have caused him. She can’t help but marvel at his courage and strength. She thinks for a moment about how she struck a kinship with him after he caught her, and how she would to anything to protect him because of it. She may not know him well, but all the same, she feels as though he’s one of her own now. 

_“'Cause you'll be in my heart/ Yes, you'll be in my heart/ From this day on /Now and forever more/ You’ll be in my heart / No matter what they say/ You’ll be here in my heart always._ ”She continues singing even though he’s sleeping for she somehow believes as long as he can hear her voice he’ll remain peaceful. 

“ _Don't listen to him/ ‘Cause what does he know_ / _We need each other to have, to hold/ He’ll see in time/ I know._ ” 

She thinks about the man who hurt him, and wishes what she is singing could be true. She so wishes she might have had the chance to make Gaston see that relying on one another is what human beings do, but sadly, she will not have the chance to make that change. Most importantly she wants to emphasize that Gaston was wrong. She wants Étienne to feel her conviction as she holds him. 

“ _When destiny calls you/ You most be strong/ I may not be with you/ But you've got to hold on/ They’ll see in time/ I know/ We’ll show them together_.” 

She’s not sure what she means by destiny. She thinks, perhaps, in the darker parts of her mind, she means death. But, at the same time, she wonders if she doesn’t mean that destiny is the life that may call him back from the brink of death. She tries to give him all the strength he needs to reject all the peace that eternal rest seems to offer. She wants him to hold onto life so that he can have a change at living a happier one, and show the village, the castle, and himself that he can thrive happily as himself. She’ll help him of course, but first, he has to have the strength to carry on. 

“' _Cause you'll be in my heart/ Yes, you'll be in my heart/ From this day on/ Now and forever more/ You'll be in my heart/ No matter what they say/ You’ll be here in my heart / always, and always._ ” 

He has stolen her heart, and, when she’s honest, he has stolen the heart of several others in this household as well. She knows that she might well hear Maurice singing if she stands outside the door tonight as he had brought several music boxes with him from his home. No, she wouldn’t be at all surprised if Maurice has the same ideas as she did tonight. She sees, looking at the mantle clock, that Maurice will be here soon. 

And sure enough, the door begins to creak open as she whispers a final, “ _Always,_ ” into Étienne’s hair. 

She lets Maurice relieve her so that she can try to sleep. But, before she leaves she places one final kiss on the crown of Étienne’s head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! 
> 
> So, this is my dead week. I'm planning on posting the next chapter at the latest on Saturday, and then we should be able to get back to the regularly scheduled every other day updates Sunday. 
> 
> I've also sort of hit a snag in the story that I'm going through with a fine tooth comb two chapters after this one. I somehow found myself in a weird place with the medical aspects of this story, and I'm trying to work out exactly how to resolve the conflict of the story in the way I've chosen to create the universe. This is the fancy way of saying: I don't want plot holes. So, if these next couple chapters are really, really, dark and suspenseful know that that's me communicating to you, dear reader, that this ending may take a bitter/bittersweet turn. 
> 
> And NOOOOW ... The Easter Eggs. 
> 
> Easter Eggs: 
> 
> Big one this chapter was "You'll Be In My Heart" lyrics! I love this song so much. This is a personal easter egg. This was my senior graduation song from when I was graduating high school four years ago. I was feeling nostalgic so I threw it in there. 
> 
> I debated putting an Undertale reference in here, but I think I threw it out because it didn't work. If it's in there I can't find it. 
> 
> Anyway, that's all I have for you folks. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	22. Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> So, I'm not feeling the best myself, but the chapter was pre-written and I really wanted to post today. It's hard to believe I'm almost done with university and that my life is moving on so quickly.
> 
> But, anyway ... on to ...
> 
> The Easter Eggs:
> 
> There are quite a few of them this chapter actually. 
> 
> So the song that Maurice sings is actually one that is a duet between Esmeralda and Phoebus in the Hunchback of Notre Dame musical. Kevin Kline (Maurice) was the voice of Phoebus in the animated movie. 
> 
> Also an Easter egg from the same movie/same reason was the bit about fencing with the candelabras in Notre Dame. There is a scene in the original Hunchback of Notre Dame animated feature that depicts Esmeralda and Phoebus getting married. 
> 
> The bit about the sunsets is a nod to The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. 
> 
> Stanley's affection for flying off into the stars references Peter Pan. 
> 
> That is about all I have for you today. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip

Maurice adjusts the ice pack on Étienne’s head, and leans his hand against Étienne’s forehead. The fever is still high enough to make Étienne uncomfortable and afraid, but he notes that it’s no higher than it had been yesterday. He’s grateful for this, but he hopes that, despite the discomfort, that Étienne is resting easy for now. 

Maurice spends most of his time with Étienne watching the young man’s chest rising and falling. He sets a music box on the night stand. He has others, and he knows that he’ll likely find himself humming a long to them over the next few days. However, somehow this tune felt the most appropriate to him for tonight. 

He pulls a bear out of the same bag the music box came from and gently tucks the old bear under Étienne’s arm. 

“I don’t know why I saved it really, Belle never took much of a liking too him,” Maurice laughs despite the situation. “I suppose we shall put him to good use, hm?” 

His smile fades as he softly takes one of Étienne’s hands. He watches how Étienne’s chest rises and falls fairly evenly, but then every few moments his breathing wavers.

He lets go of Étienne’s hand to gently wind one of the music boxes, and he smiles remembering the words written to go with this tune. “ _Someday/ When we are wiser/ When the world's older/ When we have learned/ I pray/ Someday we may yet live/ To live and let live_. _Someday/ Life will be fairer/ Need will be rarer/ Greed will not pay/ Godspeed/ This bright millennium/ On its way /Let it come someday._ ” 

Maurice hums a few more wordless bars as the music box stops. He runs his thumb over Étienne’s knuckles. “Your mother never wanted to leave you. I’m sure. I’m certain that — that she wanted to stay and protect you from the world your father and uncle created. And, I’m sure, she passed that desire onto you as well. You — you are so strong. But, if ever your strength fails, know that — know that that speaks nothing ill of you. You are human, and nothing more than human. The world can expect nothing more nor less of you than what you’ve already given.”

Maurice takes another deep breath as he tries to hold back tears. “Belle — she told me about what happened, and how much you gave up so the rest of us did not have to see the monster behind that man. This world has never been kind to you, and, yet, you always seemed to find it in yourself to be give life to those around you. I remember you when I painted the commission in the tavern. I saw you long after you’d faced more hardship than anyone could ever face, and still, your smile — I’ll never forget it. You, like so many, tried to give the world what you never had. I somehow wish that our grief could have been shared, and that you may have found a home in my home. And — and I could have given you some semblance of saftey under our roof.” 

He rubs Étienne’s knuckles absentmindedly as he continues. “You — you never complained. I admired that about you even when the insanity of these last few days occurred you never once complained. You sat in the back of the cart afraid, but I didn't understand of what or whom until it was too late. I thought, and I wish I couldn’t have seen sooner, that you were afraid of my tale of the beast.” 

Maurice chuckles shaking his head sadly. “Well, you’ve seen how much of a ‘beast’ he truly is now haven’t you? I had no idea that you were afraid of a beast that was so much more tangible and frightening for he had been following you all your life.” 

Maurice drops Étienne’s hand for a moment to light a new candle as the old one was nearly melted down to a stub. He dug through the top draw of the dresser, and he found a fresh candle. He blew out the old dying one, and then struck a match to light the fresh one. 

“I love candles,” Maurice muttered absentmindedly. “I used to tease my wife about fencing with the candelabras in Notre Dame.”

Maurice smiles grimly and pauses for a moment. “You never forget them. The dead. You were right about that.” 

Maurice takes Étienne’s hand again, and he gives it a tight squeeze. “I wish I could give her back to you. My God, how I wish I could. Especially now. For, you must feel so alone in this world hurting with no source of comfort that you can remember except for her.” 

Maurice gently squeezes Étienne’s hand again. “I’m rubbish with words sometimes, and I’m not sure you’ll remember these or if you’ll even hear them. But, I want you to listen closely to me, for with encouragement, I hope, I can slowly show you that there is love left in the world for you. Étienne, your life has value, and — and you are beautiful and so very loved.” 

Maurice hears the door creak open behind him. 

“I brought some water with me,” Stanley whispers. “Cogsworth pulled me aside and said to try and help Étienne drink some before we switched spots.” 

Maurice gives Stanley an encouraging smile, and he gently shakes Étienne’s shoulder. 

Étienne blinks blearily as pain radiates from several points in his body. He gives a little gasp at the burning pain in his side, the cramping of his stomach, and the pain in his chest. 

Stanley gently kneels next to Maurice. “Étienne. We need you to try to drink some water so you don’t get dehydrated, _cher_.”

Stanley holds Étienne up right as Maurice helps him drink. 

Étienne accepts the water gratefully at first. He’s so thirsty and his mouth is dry from earlier this evening, but the water doesn’t sit well with him. He reaches out for Stanley’s hand and squeezes tight. 

“It’s alright.” Stanley murmurs rubbing Étienne’s knuckles. “It’s alright.” 

Maurice stands ready to help if he’s needed, but eventually Étienne seems to settle enough that he feels he can take his leave. 

“There’s a fresh empty basin behind you if you need it. And, Mrs. Potts said you can knock on the wall to his left if you need Cogsworth.” 

Stanley nods his thanks and turns his attention back to holding Étienne’s hand. 

A wave of pain courses through Étienne’s chest leaving him breathless. He grips Stanley’s hand tighter. 

Stanley squeezes back. “Étienne, squeeze all the pain into my hand. You won’t hurt me, _cher_ , I promise. Good. Keep squeezing. That’s it.” 

Étienne’s grip eventually loosens as he leans forward to cough. Stanley’s arms are around his shoulders, and he guides him back as the fit passes. 

“Easy. ‘Tienne. I’ve got you. You can fall back on me, _cher._ ‘Tienne do you want to play a game?” Stanley asks as Étienne slides back agains the pillows. 

Stanley gently adjusts the bear and the blankets back around his friend’s shoulders. “‘Tienne lets play a game.” 

Étienne looks up at Stanley with a face marred by confusion. “Wha- kind of game?” 

“A fun game, where we count backwards from ten and each tell each other our favorite things about life.” 

“Dunno ‘f I can talk that much,” Étienne whispers. 

“We’ll try?” Stanley gently rubs his thumb over Étienne’s knuckles as Maurice had been doing earlier. “We’ll try going back from five.” 

“‘Kay,” Étienne murmurs sleepily. 

“You start.” Stanley kisses Étienne’s knuckles. 

“The sunset.” Étienne tries to think of the last time he watched a sunset properly. 

Étienne can’t remember the last time he just sat and watched the painted pinks and oranges brush the grass and turn the world into a living pastoral painting. He wishes he could feel the warmth of the setting summer sun on his face. He misses the sunset like a distant memory. The sunset was always a comfort when he was sad, and a reminder that the stars would litter the sky to bring light even in the dark. 

“I love stars.” Stanley gently readjusts the ice pack and wipes Étienne’s forehead. 

Stanley recalls stargazing once atop these very castle walls. He thinks he even recalls Plumette holding him down so he didn’t try to jump into the sky and float away into the sea of twinkling lights around him. She laughed at him, that he is sure, he recalls. 

“Flowers,” Étienne whispers a small smile creeping over his features.

He always loved flowers especially the ones that grew like weeds in the fields around Villeneuve. They kept reaching for the sun freely. There was no boundary around them, and they were free to dance in the wind that would blow through their petals. And yet, they remained solid and sturdy despite all the rain, the wind, and the cold. He thought maybe he could follow suit, but he’d never say so. 

“I love trees.” Stanley grins. 

He remembers climbing them as a child in the grounds around the castle. He would climb them in skirts and in pants. He just wanted to touch the sky and feel the wind. 

“Music ‘specially singing.” Étienne’s voice is almost nonexistent. 

Stanley smiles thinking about how true that is for Étienne. Despite everything, Étienne always seemed to be singing. Stanley is certain that Étienne’s soul is made of music, and his life is a symphony waiting to be sung. 

“I love dancing.” Stanley gives Étienne’s knuckles another kiss. 

Stanley had always loved waltzing. Even when his memory was gone, he had always loved to dance. He would waltz alone in his little flat above the bar when Tom and Dick were gone almost as though he were recalling distant memories from long ago. He recalls Lumière giving him encouragement as Plumette tried to teach him to dance. He wonders why the two of them were so present in his new recollections lately. 

“Tea.” Étienne forces the simple word off his lips.

Stanley notices how Étienne’s eyes are closing, and he looks close to falling asleep again. Stanley realizes his plan is working, and he’s proud of himself. 

“I’m more of a coffee man myself.”

Stanley has to laugh at the face Étienne pulls. 

“Not for you then?” Stanley asks placing a kiss on Étienne’s temple. “Last one.” 

“You.” Étienne hopes the word is audible as his eyes fall closed. 

Stanley blinks a few times stunned. He’s not even sure that he got the right word. For, Stanley almost has to read the word off Étienne’s lips ‘Tienne is so quiet. 

Stanley is not surprised that Étienne falls asleep quickly for his voice had been stolen more by sleep than any other factor. Still, Stanley thinks he’ll reach those stars he tried to fly to as a child. He knows he heard Étienne correctly. He’s sure of it, and it makes his heart soar up into the top of the trees he used to climb. 

For, he, Stanley, was Étienne’s last thought before he fell to sleep. 

Stanley remembers that he hasn’t finished his own list, but he knows what his last answer will be. He knew long before they even began playing his “game.” 

“You,” he drops a kiss on Étienne’s forehead, “are one of mine, too.”


	23. On the Mend ... or Not

Étienne’s state doesn’t change much within the first week. The castle inhabitants observe Étienne as he sleeps and occasionally provide comfort when a night terror wakes him. They help him take sips of water and aid him in eating the small amounts of food he can handle. He doesn’t worsen, but he doesn’t really improve either. However, most of them knew and expected Étienne wouldn’t make a vast improvement over the course of a week. 

Stanley spends a good part of the weekend following Étienne’s injury trying to convinceCogsworth to let him sleep in Étienne’s room. Cogsworth concedes to this if only because both Étienne and Stanley’s moods vastly improve when they are together. It’s only two Sundays after the initial injury that Étienne shows any signs of improvement. 

The battle occurred on a Thursday, and by that second Sunday Étienne can carry on full conversations. He is lucid enough to communicate, and, apart from the occasional cough and stomach cramp, everything appears to be on the mend. Everyone is overjoyed and excited at the prospects of Étienne being up and about to participate in festivities, and help choose decorations, and Chip just wants someone new to play with. 

But, Cogsworth will never forget the Monday night that followed as long as he lives. 

Monday, for all intents and purposes, is relatively quiet. It is almost a week and a half after the injury occurred, and Cogsworth notices that skin seems to be healing up, and there does not seem to be any abscess that he can feel. The swelling has reduced, and Étienne is resting peacefully. 

The fever, however, has remained constant. It hasn’t broken and it hasn’t shown any signs of breaking. It’s really only this that concerns him, but he knows from past experience that it’s only with rest that these abate. He hopes that it will break soon if only for Étienne’s sake. Étienne, though happy, had been a bit more exhausted today than yesterday. However, Cogsworth felt he was just being paranoid. Of course Étienne was tired, the entire castle had been in and out of his room to speak with him yesterday. 

He smiles for it was hit or miss with Étienne’s recovery for awhile, but, after Sunday, everything feels like things are going back to normal. Well, normal for them anyway. 

Cogsworth grins and chuckles to himself when he sees Stanley curled up next to Étienne. His heart swells with happiness when he notices both of them are smiling. Étienne had seemed happier today than he had in days, and thus, in Cogsworth’s mind, things appear to be looking up. 

He should have known, and he mentally berates himself for not staying just an hour more with them. He should have known how the body rallies before the storm, and that Étienne’s quick improvement was only another a symptom of the chaos that was about to befall them. 

Stanley smiles cuddling closer to Étienne, and in his restful state he is unaware that Étienne’s fever has begun to climb. 

About an hour later, Étienne stirs under Stanley’s soft hold. “Stanley, Stanley — Stanley I don’t feel good. Stanley — Stanley I really don’ feel good.” 

“What’s wrong, _cher_?” Stanley murmurs sleepily, but when he opens his eyes the sight that greets him startles him. 

Étienne is wheezing and his chest is pulling desperately for air. Étienne’s skin is ghost white with a sheen of sweat along his hair line. 

Stanley gently takes Étienne’s hand. “Étienne? ‘Tienne what’s wrong?”

Stanley puts a firm, but soothing hand against Étienne’s shoulder. Stanley can tell that’s something is wrong when he feels Étienne’s heartbeat against his hand.

“Stomach really hurts. ’n my chest. It hurts worse than last time.” Étienne starts to cry as he wraps his arms around himself and curls forward into his knees. 

Stanley tries to get Étienne to loosen his grasp and to uncurl himself, but Étienne won’t move. 

“Étienne? Étienne, _cher_ , you have to let go okay? It may make it better for now, _petit_ , but it won’t make it stop. You have to lie back.” 

Étienne shakes his head crying harder. “It hurts, Stanley! It hurts!” 

“I know, _cher_.” Stanley rubs Étienne’s back. “I know it hurts. I know.” 

“It feels like my hearts racing … ’s skipping,” Étienne whimpers. “ _Mon Dieu_ it hurts!” 

“‘Tienne? Étienne, I really need you to lie back leaning forward like that is only going to make it worse.” Stanley starts to help Étienne back into the cocoon of pillows.

Étienne’s eyes shoot open wider and he gasps putting a hand to his heart and clutching his chest tightly.

“Étienne what’s wrong, _cher_? Can you feel racing again? ‘Tienne, talk to me what’s wrong?” Stanley takes Étienne’s hand. 

Étienne’s eyes shoot around the room. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” 

His head sort of jerks back against the pillows. “Didn’t mean it! Make sure … make sure it’s clean next time! Please don’t hurt me!” 

“I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t.” Stanley has one hand laced in Étienne’s hand and his other hand is wrapped up in Étienne’s curls. “Étienne — _cher_ , it’s Stanley. You’re safe. Where do you think you are you right now?” 

“Camp — Gaston’s Camp. ’s cold. ’s so cold!” Étienne’s entire body is wracked with shivers. “I w-wanna go home!” 

“Gaston’s Camp—“ Stanley trails off trying to think of what “camp” might mean.

Then it hits him. “Do you mean in the war, _mon ange_?” Stanley asks as he runs his fingers through Étienne’s hair. 

Étienne nods, but soon screams out again in pain. 

Stanley lays the back of his hand on Étienne’s forehead and he winces pulling his hand away. Étienne’s fever has never risen this high. Stanley is almost certain of that. 

“I’ll clean them!” Étienne shoots forward his arm pulling him up as if reaching for something. “I’ll clean the cannons! I’m sorry!” 

“Étienne, Étienne, _mon trésor_ , no. Lie back. Just lie down. It’s okay. You’re wounded. They can’t make you work if you’re wounded. Your side is injured. Don’t get up.” Stanley fights to keep his voice even. 

How did this even happen? Where did it come from? Everything was fine, and now —Stanley has no idea what’s going on. 

Étienne’s eyes go back in his head as his body shakes. 

It’s nearly half eleven when Cogsworth hears screams coming from Étienne’s room. The voice is clearly Étienne’s, and he sounds scared to death. So, Cogsworth rushes into the room and sees Étienne thrashing wildly. Stanley tries in vain to calm him down. 

Stanley runs his fingers through Étienne’s hair and whispers soothing words. Stanley isn’t aware of Cogsworth’s presence until Stanley feels the pressure of one of Cogsworth’s hands on his shoulder. 

Stanley jumps slightly as he’s startled by the warm body behind him. 

“What happened?” Cogsworth asks his voice gentle but betraying his concern. 

“His fever just shot up, and he got really confused. He thought he was in war the last time he cried out.” Stanley’s eyes hold all the fear Cogsworth won’t let himself show. “The last time he was lucid enough to know who I was he said his heart felt like it was skipping beats and then … he just started thrashing like this.” 

“Étienne, son,” Cogsworth whispers placing a gentle but firm hand on Étienne’s brow. “Étienne? Étienne come back to us, child. Come back to us.”

Étienne settles, but his chest heaves for air. Cogsworth makes quick work of resting his ear against Étienne’s chest. He can hear Étienne’s heart racing, and Cogsworth can feel the heat radiating from Étienne’s skin. 

“Stanley run and fetch Mrs. Potts for me.” Cogsworth states matter of factly. “You two will have to stay with him while I help the others draw an ice bath.” 

Cogsworth gives Stanley’s shoulder a tight squeeze. Stanley runs from the room at break-neck speed. 

Cogsworth has grown to remember why he was always so fond of Mme and Maestro’s son before the curse. 

Cogsworth notices that, much like Plumette, Stanley is filled with all the love both of his parents displayed openly. Yet, Stanley is so observant and wise in ways few people in the world are. Stanley’s compassion and genuine love for Étienne, Cogsworth is certain, is what caused Étienne to rally as he had. So, Cogsworth hopes that having Stanley stay with Étienne will help Étienne stay with them. 

He wonders if the “magic,” he hates that that is the only word he can think of, of Stanley’s love for Étienne will work a second time. Cogsworth is not sure what will happen if they lose Étienne tonight, and now, Cogsworth is painfully aware of the reality that could lose Étienne even within the hour. There were nights when he pondered loosing Étienne, almost like a sad thought experiment, but there was always a glimmer of hope when Étienne would stabilize. He also realizes any state that Étienne had been in, with the exception of the night with Adam and Belle, hadn’t truly been that horrible. Even the night Étienne had been with Adam and Belle, while Cogsworth had suspected blood poisoning and was right, the way Étienne settled drew his mind away from it. He knew he should have trusted his instincts because what seemed terrifying at the time was going to be worse now. Before, it was almost always something easy to resolve, but, now, he’s not sure they can come back from this.

Cogsworth is drawn out of his thoughts when he feels a desperate sort of pressure wrapping its way around his hand. Cogsworth immediately grips back. 

Étienne grits his teeth tight. His chest hurts. He wants someone to make it stop, but no one can make it stop. He feels like he’s being shocked. He squeezes someone’s hand, and the person squeezes back. So, Étienne keeps squeezing as hard as he can. 

“That’s it, my boy.” Cogsworth grips Étienne’s hand tightly. “Just let me take it. Give me all of the pain. It’s okay, son. It’s okay.” 

Stanley and Mrs. Potts burst through the door. 

Mrs. Potts takes a step forward, but thinks better of it and waits for further instruction. She desperately wants to hold Étienne, and she thinks that maybe Étienne also wants her to hold him. 

Cogsworth doesn't hesitate in asking, “Beatrice, would you like to take him from me?”

Mrs. Potts nods and lets Cogsworth put Étienne in her arms. She takes Étienne's  hand from Cogsworth and lets Étienne hold her hand instead. 

Stanley presses his hand against Étienne’s thigh with a soft but evident amount of pressure, and he gently runs his hand up and down Étienne's leg.

After about a minute, Mrs. Potts and Stanley settle on looking at one another expectantly. It’s Mrs. Potts who asks the question she can see burning in Stanley’s eyes. 

“He was so improved yesterday, and —” she draws in a sharp breath. “What’s the likelihood Henry, and, don’t lie to me, that he will die? Will we loose him?”

Stanley doesn’t know what to do. He would have never been able to ask, so, on the one hand, he’s glad Mrs. Potts did. However, something inside him doesn’t want to know the answer. 

“I don’t know, but the likelihood of his survival will improve if he lasts through the rest of this week. But, first we have to help him through tonight.” Cogsworth’s answer doesn’t satisfy the question and he knows it. 

“And the likelihood he’ll last tonight? Should I be prepared to …” Mrs. Potts drops off and pulls Étienne’s limp form closer to her. 

“It’s high, Beatrice. It’s very likely he could die even tonight.” Cogsworth murmurs painfully up to the celling. 

Cogsworth doesn’t want to look at anyone right now. So, he draws his strength from the sky and the celling as he takes a deep breath. “But, if we’re to have any hope we have to keep our heads.” 

Cogsworth surveys the scene one last time, and, satisfied that he can do nothing more, he leaves as quickly as he can to gather the rest of the household to help with drawing the ice bath. Half of his heart, however, is still in the room with Étienne. Cogsworth knows this will be a nasty business, but it’s absolutely necessary it was proven to him when he saw Étienne thrashing. They’ll need to do everything in their power to prevent that from happening again.

Just after Cogswroth leaves Mrs. Potts hears a soft whimper coming from Étienne. “ _Maman_? _Maman_ , I’m cold. I'm cold. Why's it so cold?” 

She closes her eyes tight because somehow she knows he’s referring to her. “I know, poppet. I’m sorry.”

She puts her arm around his shoulder and snuggles him closer. “Better, love?”

“Mmhmm,” Étienne nods as he gives her a soft but pained smile.

Stanley gently washes Étienne’s neck, and his hairline. He knows that Mrs. Potts only has two hands both of which are being put to good use holding Étienne. So, Stanley tries to keep his hands busy cooling Étienne down as best he can. Stanley admires Mrs. Potts's gentle motherly nature because Stanley knows, if he were in Étienne’s shoes, he’d love nothing more than M _aman_ to sing for him while she cradles him and strokes his hair. 

“Étienne,” Mrs. Potts whispers. “Étienne, sweetheart, are you comfortable?” 

Étienne nods slightly, but his chest tightens again. He finds the pain so excruciating he feels sick, and he lets out a gasp in response to all of the sensations. 

“Sweetheart, does it hurt?” Mrs. Potts presses.

Étienne nods again. 

“Where, poppet?” She asks gently brushing Étienne’s tangled hair with her fingers.

Mrs. Potts tries to mime “brush” for Stanley. Stanley, to his credit, figures it out rather quickly. He produces and brush from the bottom drawer of the dresser. 

“Chest ’n my stomach.” Étienne eventually answers as he presses closer to Mrs. Potts. 

“No where else?” She gently runs the brush through his hair. 

He shakes his head no. “But, I’m still cold. ’S so cold. ‘m so cold.” 

Stanley rubs Étienne’s shoulder and his arm in an attempt to warm him slightly. 

Mrs. Potts doesn’t know what to say so she just pulls the covers back around Étienne's shoulders with Stanley’s help. “We’re going to try and help, poppet. It’s okay.” 

Étienne’s entire body is wracked with shaking chills. Mrs. Potts can feel his body shivering against her as she continues to work the knots out of his hair. 

Stanley moves away from the bed slightly and he draws his eyebrows together in concentration. 

Mrs. Potts looks over at Stanley who is sitting just close enough to help if he’s needed, but far enough away that he can asses the situation. Mrs. Potts can’t help but realize he looks lost, and terribly frightened. 

Étienne starts to cry, and Mrs. Potts keeps brushing his hair gently. 

“Hush. It’s alright. It’s going to be alright. You’re safe now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” She rocks him slowly putting the brush down. 

Étienne doesn’t stop crying. Somewhere inside himself, he sort of wants to stop, but he can’t. The pain is just too intense, and so he keeps crying. He lost the ability to care if crying makes him seem weak or like a child or any other insult someone might come up with. Everything hurts, and he doesn’t know if he can express how much it hurts any other way than through tears. 

Mrs. Potts puts her chin on his temple, and she hums a soft and gentle tune. She cradles him to her chest, and she resolves to let him cry. She knows that she is powerless to stop his crying unless she can alleviate his pain. She thinks he’s been through enough now, and she ought to allow him to let out all of his pain. She hates hearing him cry, but she feels she should just let him feel safe enough to release his physical and emotional anguish. So, she holds him and keeps him safe until he finally cries himself out. 

She can still feel the fever raging inside him as he lays against her. His body is still shaking slightly even as he sleeps. Mrs. Potts’ heart tightens as she knows that they have to bring Étienne’s fever down soon or her little beautiful boy will likely pass. She tries not to think about that for Stanley’s sake. 

Stanley has moved to his mattress on the other side of the room. He hates Gaston. He’s glad he’s dead. He hopes that Gaston rots for a long time in the fiery pits of Hell, and once he’s gotten used to Hell Stanley will die. Stanley has been told enough times that when he dies he’ll go to Hell, so, when he does, he’ll march up to Gaston and torture him worse than any Devil ever could. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to warn you with the chapter title what was about to happen. I tried to find a medical loophole on doing this, but I couldn't and I hate inaccurate plot holes. So, this is where we are. 
> 
> This chapter is really long compared to my other chapters. I didn't realize it until I finished it, but it's long! 
> 
> Medically all of this should be relatively sound. Blood poisoning usually causes "an abrupt change in mental state" along side chest pain, difficulty/rapid breathing, fever, and abdominal pain. So, I should have all my bases covered. The previous chapters, I'd hoped, opened the door for all of this to occur, but I sort of also wanted them to be ambiguous enough that Cogsworth might have just been paranoid. This chapter officially confirms what a lot of you have been sort of worried about/suspecting/unaware of (I've had a few of each) in the comments. 
> 
> I tried to skirt the line between the option that it really was just anxiety and paranoia while actually preparing you, dear reader, for the chaos that will be these next chapters. I hope this didn't come too far out of left field for some of you, but also isn't too repetitive for those that were starting to catch on.
> 
> Stanley is so badass in this chapter guys! He's in a very fight me kind of mood, but he has to wait for the after life to avenge the honor. My poor bean. 
> 
> Cogsworth (and everyone around him) needs to learn to just trust Cogsworth's instincts. 9/10 they're right. 
> 
> And also, Mrs. Potts you and Toriel need to grab tea some time and make pie together because all of your kids just have a knack for getting themselves into the worst situations. 
> 
>  
> 
> Any who ... Easter Eggs anyone?
> 
> Easter Eggs:
> 
> Cogsworth also happens to have Gandalf's magic powers of laying a hand on their forehead and calming them down. I don't really know if that's medically sound or not, but here we are. 
> 
> Cogworth laying his head on Étienne's chest would have been a legit way to measure someone's heart rate pre-stethoscope. (I guess that's more of a fun fact than an Easter Egg, but it's still cool!) 
> 
> Just before Stanley's paragraph there was a blink and you'll miss it Garderobe and Mrs. Potts parallel in which Étienne is referred to as Mrs. Potts' beautiful boy. 
> 
> That's about it folks! I'm so glad you've been enjoying this fic, and I really hope this chapter doesn't disappoint.


	24. On the Care and Keeping of Tea Cups

It isn't long before the others get together and make a plan as to what they will do to expedite the process of drawing the ice bath. Plumette and Lumière will distract Chip while Maurice, Adam, Chapeau, and Mr. Potts carry the heavy wooden tub. Cogsworth will oversee the process, and, once the tub has been moved to Étienne’s room, everyone who is not Plumette, Lumière, Chip, or Mrs. Potts will bring ice up from the kitchen as quickly as possible. Then, once the tub has been half filled with ice, cool water will be added. 

Cogsworth is impressed with how quickly everything is moving, and how easy it is to convince Chip to stay with Plumette and Lumière. 

Lumière lifts Chip onto his shoulders, and notices that Plumette is hesitating in following him. “What’s the matter, _ma_ _cherie_?” 

“I want to convince Stanley to come up with us. I don’t want him to have to go through this if he doesn’t have to. I can understand if he wants to be with Étienne, but I think he should at least have the option to come with us. He always loved stargazing.” Her smile tightens. “And they would come get him if anything … disastrous were to happen.” 

Lumière nods following her thought process easily. “Meet us up on the roof then?” 

Chip watches Plumette carefully. He is not as stupid as the adults might think. He knows what is going on. 

“Clothilde said Étienne will go to hell because he’s a sodomite? What does that mean, and it’s not really going to happen to him will it, Lumière?” Chip pleads, “Maman won’t let that happen to him will she?”

Lumière doesn't really know how to answer this question. But, at the very least, he thinks he could answer it in parts. “Well,” Lumière adjusts Chip on his shoulder. “A sodomite is a very cruel name for someone who loves someone of the same — gender — I suppose one might say—as they are.” 

“But,” Chip cuts in, “I love you. And Adam loves you. Does that make us sodomites too?” 

“Not exactly Chip, but, Adam — with Master Adam that’s — ah — complicated. It’s a discussion for another time. But with you and I, that’s very different. See there are many types of love. There’s platonic love between friends. There’s the love between a parent and a child. And — there’s the love of total sacrifice …” 

“Like Étienne?” Chip asks. 

Lumière stops and swallows thickly. Chip is so wise, and, sometimes Lumière wonders if Chip isn't a little more like Adam than they are all willing to admit. For, Lumière has never forgotten how M. Adam’s seemingly innocent observations strung from M. Adam’s father’s comments led to blows and long nights of tears. Obviously, things will be different now, but still, Lumière remembers. His mind is drawn back to the question at hand when Chip taps his little fingers against Lumière’s cheek. 

“Yes, a lot like that.” He takes another breath and continues. “But, the last type of love is the type of love that causes people to want to kiss each other and get married and hold hands and do other things.” 

“Like when you and Plumette used to get in trouble because Cogsworth caught you behind the curtains?” 

Lumière laughs harder than he should. “A lot like that, yes. Well, Étienne … Étienne feels that kind of love for other men. I think he and M. Stanley like each other that way.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Chip liked the idea of M. Stanley marrying Étienne because that means that Étienne could stay forever. “But, why does that mean he would go to Hell?” 

Lumière sighs. He had half hoped this question would remain forgotten. However, Lady Luck had abandoned him a long time ago, and, to this day, she remains illusive as ever. 

“Well, this is complicated because it depends a lot on how one interprets certain things in the Bible.” Lumière begins carefully. “Clothilde — she’s very strict in how she interprets the Bible. She was so strict that, even when Cogsworth made my adoption into his family official, she told because I wasn’t biologically hers that God would not truly accept me as theirs. She told me no one would ever accept me as her and Cogsworth’s son. I don’t know if she had any way of proving that she couldn’t be my mother according to Scripture, but she resented my presence in her family all the same. She called me a product of sin even though she had no knowledge of my parentage. She resented Cogsworth because — well — because of me and for a lot of other reasons.” 

Chip looks off into the light coming out of the open window at the balcony. The stars and half moon light up the gardens below. “So, she’s untrustworthy then.” 

Chip is careful with these words. He tries to bring all the information together in his mind and process what Lumière was saying. It is hard for him to understand Lumière’s story because Lumière just seems to be telling him a sad story about how mean Clothilde is. However, Chip thinks he might have understood correctly because Lumière sets him down and keels so that he's eye level with Chip. 

“Yes. I suppose that is what I’m saying. You have to think about the source of the words and all the hatred that they carry inside them. You have to understand that some people in this world want to do nothing more than cause pain to others without any reason.” Lumière hesitates for a moment before continuing. “Agathe the enchantress — though frustrating in her methods — had a purpose in what she did. Clothilde and the other members of Villeneuve had no reason to be threatened by Étienne or Belle or Maurice, and, yet, they took out their frustrations and anger on them because it was easy —”

“Why didn’t they get turned into beasts then?” Chip stomps his foot. “If M. Adam had to undergo that punishment for being angry and taking his anger out on us then all of them should have to go through the same! Let their children and friends be turned into junk and rubbish, too!” Chip flailed his arms as tears poured down his cheeks. “Make _them_ sleep in the cupboards!” 

Lumière pulls Chip into him tightly. “I don’t know why, but the world doesn’t work like that. It should, but sadly _mon chouchou_ it just doesn’t. I hate to have to tell you this, but the world outside these walls doesn’t love the way we love. There is far too much hatred and far too little self-sacrificing love out in the world beyond this castle. The world out there hasn’t learned its lesson yet. But, there might be hope that people can understand.” 

“How? How do we make them understand?” Chip pulls himself deeper into Lumière’s protective embrace. 

“You can’t force them to understand, but you can show them how by living. So,” Lumière hesitates, “So, we’ll just have to be really brave, and filled with hope. See, the one thing that people like Clothilde hate more than anything is hope. You have to be willing to be the only light in a room full of little black rain clouds dripping,” Lumière boops Chip’s nose three times, “all over you. But, you have to be ready to keep tending your little spark because the world will stop at nothing to put it out.” 

Chip pulls away from Lumière. “How do you tend the spark?” 

“Hmm …” Lumière smiles. “I like to dance with Plumette to tend mine, and Maurice he paints his fire into existence. Belle and Adam they read, and with each page that turns they’re on fire. Plumette happens to sing like her mother when no one is around sometimes, but she also loves to dance. You just find your niche somehow.” 

Chip grins up at Lumière. “So, we’ll all see each other again then someday? Just like when Mlle Belle broke the spell right? Even Étienne and Stanley?” 

“If only because you ask it, I’m sure it will be granted.” Lumière moves to stand behind Chip and look out at the sky. 

Chip looks up and hopes and pleads with all of his might that everything might work out no matter what that looks like. Though, he adds that he would prefer if Étienne survives if only because it will make his _maman_ happy. 

For, Chip has often heard his father discussing with his mother what will happen should Étienne die. 

Chip heard them discussing the circumstances of how his parents had come to the castle long before he was born. Chip learned, though a bit of childish eavesdropping, that the circumstances hadn’t exactly been happy. However, he didn’t catch all the details. 

He only knows that his father asks his maman every night if she will be alright if Étienne passes away. Chip isn't sure she is telling the truth when she said she would be fine. So, he keeps looking at the stars wishing on each one that “maybe _maman_  will find some peace this time.” Chip isn't sure he wants to know what papa meant by that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a long time. Sorry about that. These last few weeks have been quite hectic.   
> I really wanted to give you some fluff after the last chapter because it was pretty intense. I have about two movements before we get back to the plot. This was one of them.  
> After Stanfou, Plumière is my favorite ship. They haven't had a lot of screen time in this fic so I really wanted to bring at least half of them back. 
> 
> Anyway, on to the .... Easter EGGS!!!
> 
> Easter Eggs:
> 
> The little black rain cloud line is a reference to Winnie the Pooh :) 
> 
> And the "one little spark" comes from a song in a ride that I loved in Walt Disney World that has since been remodeled. The line was "one little spark of inspiration is as the heart of all creation" which was one of the lines on my graduation cap. 
> 
> Those are all the easter eggs, but I tried to leave you all with a few questions about Mrs. Potts' past. I'm holding off on specifics until I can find the exact headcanon from Tumblr that I wanted to use so I can cite it. 
> 
> Anyway! I hope you enjoyed this nice h/c break from our regularly scheduled angst fest. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip
> 
> I'm so embarrassed to say this. I switched verb tenses starting this chapter. I can't believe I did that! This is the biggest English Major faux pas ever! I'm sorry. I'll fix it right now.


	25. Look at My Son

Plumette enters the bedroom, and knows immediately that getting Stanley out of there needs to happen. Her little brother looks like one half of him wants to scream and break something, but the other half looks like he wants to cry. Plumette is entirely unsure which side of Stanley will be harder to deal with. However, it isn't long before Plumette catches Mrs. Potts’ gaze and sits down next to her. 

“Lumière and I will be watching over Chip tonight, and I was thinking about asking Stanley if he’d like to … you know … not be here. Since what’s to come is not going to be pleasant.” 

Mrs. Potts smiles weakly. “I think that would be for the best. I’ll send your mother and father up after we get through ice bath. I think Stanley will need them tonight.” 

Plumette nods and places a soft kiss on Étienne’s forehead. She winces slightly, and gives Étienne’s shoulder a soft squeeze.

“Hello _chouchou_ ,” Plumette whispers as she flops down on the mattress next to Stanley. “Why don’t we head upstairs to the tower to look at the stars. Lumière and Chip are already up there, and we’d enjoy your company. Would you like that?” 

“No, some other time maybe, but not tonight. Because, what if something happens?” Stanley asks quietly. “I want to be here for him.” 

“I know, but if he needs you someone will come get you. The room is going to be pretty crowded soon, and also you can rest up on the roof with Lumière, Chip, and me. That way you’ll be nice and refreshed when everyone is finished. You can take care of Étienne then. Remember like how we had shifts before?” 

Stanley mulls over her logical statements, but they aren't logical to him right now. “No, now it’s different. He needs me here all the time, and I won’t leave him ever. I have to stay here. I have to.” 

Plumette gently takes Stanley’s hands. “ _Non chouchou_ , no you don’t have to stay here. If he asks for you everyone has special instructions from Mrs. Potts and myself to tell you to come back.” 

“Yes, poppet. It’s okay to go I was going to ask Jean to sit with Étienne and myself for a while so he’ll be in good hands,” Mrs. Potts coaxes. 

Stanley looks up at her confused. “I won’t be in the way,” he inists.

“That’s not what I meant, poppet.” She sakes her head sadly. “I meant if you’re torn or if you need your space I wanted to ensure you know that he would still have someone here. So, go on, love, you need get out of here for awhile.” 

Stanley sakes his head violently. “I have to stay here. If he wakes up and I’m gone, he’s going to think I abandoned him too. Just like Gaston. He’s going to think I hate him.” 

“No, _chouchou_ , he won’t. It’ll be okay.” Plumette pulls him into a tight hug against her chest. “Why don’t I go for a minute? I’ll come back later and see if you changed your mind.” 

Stanley concedes that that is fair. 

Mrs. Potts hails her over subtly. “Get Cogsworth and have him talk Stanley into leaving. This will break him if he sees what’s coming.” 

“Yes Mme.” Plumette nods her eyes widening in fear. “How … will it hurt him a lot?” Plumette looks over at Étienne. 

“It can be quite painful. But, sadly it’s the only option we have. If he gets any warmer, he might haver permanent damage to his sight or mind if he doesn’t already. I’m worried more so about his heart and balance though. He might have trouble with his heart and walking for the rest of his life even if we manage to get him cooled down at this point.” Mrs. Potts shook her head sadly. 

“But, this will help?” Plumette prompts. 

“Maybe, but it will likely confuse him because he already feels like he’s freezing. Dumping him in a bath of cold water is going to scare him. But, like I said, dear, we don’t have much of a choice.” Mrs. Potts strokes hair away from Étienne’s forehead. “A lot of his battle will also be with his own mind both over the course of these weeks of recovery and on into the rest of his life.” 

Plumette takes a shaky breath, “Mme, I know this is not my place, but will you be alright?” 

“Well, everyone asks me, and I’ll give you the same answer I gave Mr. Potts yesterday: I have no idea. I won’t know until I am met with tragedy or a miracle. But, no matter what I will likely grieve because no outcome will be perfect.” Mrs. Potts takes a breath and holds it for a moment. “I want to tell myself he’s strong enough to make it through this, but I can’t make false promises to myself. I can’t.” 

Plumette gently kisses her temple. “I’ll go to get Cogsworth, my father, and M. Jean.” 

“Bless you, my dear.” Mrs. Potts gives her a watery but strong smile. 

Plumette exits the room and makes for the West Wing. 

She pushes open the door. “Papa,” she whispered. “I need you and M. Cogsworth to convince Stanley to join Lumière and me on the roof. And if M. Jean wouldn’t mind Mrs. Potts is asking for him.” 

“I’ll remain with her once we have this moved in.” Jean gives her a knowing look. 

Plumette barely meets his eyes not out of fear of him, but for the fear of what she will see in them. She isn't unobservant, and even the least observant person could see that the elderly couple has become attached to Étienne. She is no fool. She knows they tried for at least one child before Chip, but they lost him or her. 

She remembered catching Mr. Potts talking to Mrs. Potts about how Étienne “wouldn’t replace the child they lost” just as Adam hadn’t. But, Mrs. Potts stated that felt some kind of connection to this young man. “He needs me,” Plumette remembers Mrs. Potts saying to M. Jean. 

Cogsworth tells them to wait while he and Cadenza follow Plumette to Étienne’s room. 

Cogsworth pokes his head in, and meets Mrs. Potts’ troubled gaze. 

“It will be moved within the next 20 minutes, but while we fill the tub your husband will remain,” Cogswoth explains gently. 

Mrs. Potts gives him a grateful smile. “Thank you.” 

He nods his acceptance and then turns to Stanley who, sometime in the last few minutes, had curled up into a small ball with his chin on his knees. 

Maestro Cadenza sits down on the mattress next to his son. “I’m sure she already told you that you’d be better rested if you left?” 

“Yes, but still … I should be here. I have to stay here with him. What if he calls out for me? What if he needs me and I’m not here? What if …” Stanley breaks off at the sound of Cogsworth’s voice. 

“The world is full of what if’s, Stanley. Trust me you can ask yourself ‘what if’ as much as you want. But, right now what’s best is if you go out into the cool air and come back refreshed. You can’t destroy yourself with a future that hasn’t even happened yet.” Cogsworth kneels down and cups Stanley’s cheek. 

“Listen to your father and Plumette. Go. We’ll take good care of him in your absence, and when you’re ready to face this again I’ll let you come back. But, for now, let us take care of him.” Cogsworth holds Stanley’s gaze for a moment. 

“Okay. But, if anything should happen and if he even half calls for me,” Stanley whimpers. 

“I’ll come get you myself,” Maestro and Cogsworth say almost in unison. 

The two men smile at one another, and that seems to satisfy Stanley enough. He leaves them, and Plumette follows behind him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Well done my friend.” Cogsworth sakes Cadenza’s hand. “Job well done. You raised them both so well.” 

“I don’t really know who else had a hand in raising Stanley because he wasn’t with us in the same way Plumette was.” 

“Well, whomever they are, they should be very proud.” Cogsworth smiles. 

“I would like to thank them myself for looking after him all these years,” Maestro murmurs half to himself as he walks back towards the West Wing with Cogsworth. 

“Yes. I’m sure they will make themselves known in time.” 

“I’m sure they will, Cogsworth. I’m certain they will.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!
> 
> So, wow this fic has gotten LONG. I never intended it to be this long, so thank you all for keeping up with it and commenting as you have. I love you all, and I just have to say this fic would be nothing without your readership. 
> 
> So, the headcanon that Mrs. Potts became staff after losing a child actually belongs to frostedwitch on tumblr. I take no ownership over that idea, but I do hope to expand on that in the next few chapters. 
> 
> That actually leads me right into .... THE EASTER EGGS!
> 
> Easter Eggs:
> 
> So the only one I really put in this time was the conversation between M. Jean and Mrs. Potts. That's almost directly lifted from Kerchak and Kala's dialogue from Tarzan. 
> 
> Chapter Title is a Hamilton reference. You are free to freak out now. 
> 
> I kind of headcanon though that the lines Cogsworth used on Stanley are the same ones Gandalf used on Sam to get him to eat and sleep in Rivendell after Frodo was stabbed. But, that's just my own thing and in no way connected to the films/books. 
> 
> So, yeah. I don't have any huge life updates at the moment. I'm moving back to school in a few days for my graduate work after spending some time at home. I'm sorry the updates have been kind of few and far between, but I've been spending time with family. Additionally, chapters that have to do with scene setups are sometimes tedious and/or difficult to write because they don't have the same momentum other chapters do. So, yeah ... setting up the serious conversations some of these characters are going to have is sometimes kind of boring though very necessary and I really pride myself in quality work. So, I don't want any of it to seem sloppy. 
> 
> Additionally, just because I'm paranoid as all get out: If you are Alexis Loizon and you are reading this please ignore my terrible French grammar I literally haven't/hadn't taken a French class in a whole semester and had no one to practice with. I know you read fic/look at fan art so ... yeah ... this is how I practice because I don't want to lose the limited skills I have. I love you and you're awesome! Thanks for being so cool! :D (I feel like an idiot.) 
> 
> Well, yeah ... that's all folks. 
> 
> All the Best,  
> Pip


	26. The Side Effects of Five Years with No Thoughts

The tub is moved from the West Wing into Étienne’s room within twenty minutes after Stanley leaves the room. Maurice, Adam, Chapeau, and Cadenza leave Cogsworth and Jean Potts to make a few last minute adjustments, and, shortly after everything is situated, Cogsworth leaves too with the promise that all of them would return with ice for the bath within the next few minutes. Mrs. Potts acknowledges Cogsworth’s plan and tells him to hurry.

The room is quiet when everyone departs, and Jean stares at his wife for a long time. He can't help but marvel at her strength. She has been without him for years, and she still manages to keep her hope that somehow everything will turn out for the best. He can't quite forgive himself for forgetting her, and his son, and the child they’d lost.

He’d driven himself mad trying to remember what he’d forgotten every morning. He checked the locks on his house five times before he left every morning thinking that was all it could be, but then he would come home looking for people who weren’t there.

Jean Potts realizes that while never thought himself a short tempered man he knows he will never forgive the Enchantress for her curse. He curses her for her wickedness as she seems to never have once considered the lives of the servants in Adam’s household, the people of Villeneuve, and he even questions if she really ever thought of Adam. The young man could have been redeemed without being broken in the way he had, or, at least, that was what Jean thinks.

He sits down near his wife and looks at the lines on her face. He notices how her hands are laced in the young man’s hair. He watches Étienne sleep, and he remembers how bright a light Étienne was in the confusion of Villeneuve. He finds himself considering the life this young man lived as he mulls over the stories his wife has told him. He thinks about how much he wished he and his wife had known about Étienne’s living situation.

His blood boils at the thought of Étienne’s father. That man, he rages internally, is so lucky. For, Jean can't help but think about what kind of privilege it must be to have enough children to choose which ones you want and which ones you don’t.

Étienne must have been a brave child, Jean thinks, all things considered. He tries not to marvel at the abuses Étienne suffered at Gaston’s hands, and he is no longer surprised as to how Étienne endured them. It is as though Étienne had been trained to handle Gaston all his life.

He watches Étienne’s chest rise and fall rapidly, and he looks at his wife’s hands moving gently up and down Étienne’s shoulders. He thinks about what he and his wife could have provided Étienne, and he smiles at the idea of how happy a pair Chip and Étienne might have made if they’d grown up together.

He thinks about how, selfishly, Étienne’s company might have made him feel less alone during those five long years of torment.

He hears the footsteps of the company shuffling in and out like a soft hum of static that timed the moment until lightening would strike them all. He is so glad the young man, Stanley, doesn't have to be here to witness even just the flurry of hurried movements.

Jean’s mind drifts back to Stanley, and he begins thinking about Stanley’s parents. He isn't sure if it was harder or easier for Mme and Maestro knowing that at least one of their children was here with them. Jean comes to the conclusion that what the Garderobe-Cadenza family experienced was infinitely harder than if the two children were together. Mme and Maestro, Jean ponders, weren't able to take solace in their children looking after one another. They must have often thought about how Stanley was all alone in the world, and Jean muses that they must have had to have a lot of faith in the kindness of the citizens of Villeneuve to look after their son. He regrets not reaching out to Stanley.

He regrets a lot of things about that time when he’s honest with himself.

He has contemplated the time without his wife a lot over the course of these last few days, and he fails to come to an exact conclusion about how much he is responsible for. He actually wants to take responsibility for all his actions and berate himself for all of the things he’d done. Yet, then he realizes then he would have to blame the school master for forgetting his daughter and completely changing his demeanor in her absence. He thinks about how almost everyone in the village, with the exception of Étienne, Belle and her father, had someone missing from their memory.

His anger at the Enchantress returns full force. How dare she, his enraged thoughts continue, what if their forgetfulness remained permanent? He recalls hearing some of the servants speaking about how their families still hadn’t reached out to them. These same servants have been wondering if their families were dead. Jean recalls holding his tongue as he thinks about the few funerals in Villeneuve over these last five years. He won't bring that news to them. He can't.

He hears Cogsworth clearing his throat behind him. “We’re ready.”

Mrs. Potts locks eyes with Cogsworth first and then with her husband. She pushes back a lock of Étienne’s hair.

Jean watches each one of her actions, and he knows that she doesn't want to give Étienne up to this trial as much as it is necessary.

He gets up and stands next to her. He wants to be the one to lift Étienne, and he wants to be the one who keeps him safe. He hopes that, maybe by these actions, she will understand that he is proud to call Étienne his son.

She loosens her grip on Étienne, and her gaze seems to hold all the thankfulness the world had to offer. Jean, therefore, assumes that his thoughts were not only interpreted but also well received.

So, he takes the sleeping Étienne into his own arms as his wife left the room to preserve Étienne's dignity.

“We’ll spare him some modesty,” Cogsworth murmurs as he began peeling away the sweat soaked nightshirt.

Jean’s eyes widen at the state of Étienne’s back. It is covered with scars in all sorts of patterns, and Jean’s heart leaps up into his throat. He looks at the white raised marks, and, as repulsed as he is, he is unable to tear his eyes away. Jean traces a finger down one of the particularly bad marks.

Cogsworth just closes his eyes a moment and keeps working. Jean can't help but admire how Cogsworth's obvious empathy does't disrupt Cogsworth's ability to remain in complete control of each and every moment. Jean admires Cogsworth's ability to be stoic and deliberate despite the obvious storm of emotion the elderly man is experiencing. Jean can't help but wonder if Cogsworth witnessed things like this before.

Cogsworth makes quick work of the other garments, but he leaves Étienne’s undergarments alone. Jean meets Cogsworth’s eyes and, in that gaze, there is mutual understanding. Jean’s eyes linger at the two scars on Étienne’s stomach, and he feels his stomach roll as his mind wandered back to the story his wife told him. He shudders to think of the exact details of this child’s life, and so Jean pulls Étienne close for one moment more before lifting him off the mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so a VERY Jean Potts centric chapter. I've wanted to do a character study of Mr. Potts for a long time, and I felt this was the best moment to insert it. 
> 
> Also, we're getting pretty near the climax of the story my dears. I've officially decided I'm going to try to wrap this puppy up within about 20 chapters of less. I have a few other projects I want to work on in this fandom (don't worry I'm not going anywhere). But, I really want to wrap this up first. My goal is to finish this story before mid June. We'll see how this goes, but that's my goal. 
> 
> My reason is two fold. One, this story is already much longer than I'd originally planned. I think this is the longest work of fan fiction I've ever written. Second, I'm sort of losing my steam with the story, and it's best to keep myself motivated if I want the story to be any good. I'm looking forward to the last chapters I have planned I just need to get us there. 
> 
> I would like to give you a few previews for the upcoming chapters in light of the fact that I did not add any Easter Eggs to this chapter. I am looking forward to announce chapters dealing with Tom and Dick coming back into the picture with a lovely redemption arc for them and a happy reunion with Stanley. This may or may not involve Agathe having to answer for all the pain she caused. 
> 
> So, I look forward to bringing this to the climax with you. And thank you all for sticking around through my sparser updates this last month. I've said this in many chapters, but your reviews and support make all of this worth doing. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	27. The Water is Wide

Étienne feels like he’s floating far away from his body. He feels like he’s in the sky, but everything is dark. He can’t will his eyes open, but there’s a warmth around him. He can’t describe this feeling. It isn’t unpleasant, but it os strange to feel so far away from his arms and legs. He feels like birds must feel this way when they fly. For, their feathers must be warm, but they’re up in the sky. He feels himself being lowered, and he isn’t sure why. 

The next thing he feels is cold. It is cold like he’s never experienced before. He imagines the only thing that is this cold is the ocean when it is covered with ice. So, he wonders if he is drowning. His lungs close up, and he feels like he might be drowning. Yet, he is just aware enough to know that there is no water coming up into his mouth. Somehow, this is infinitely more terrifying to know that he can drown with no water coving his mouth.

He finds feeling in his arms again, but they are stiff and hard to lift. He is sure he is going to drown in the ocean of cold water. He is sure the waves will pull him under soon. So, he thrashes with all his might as best he can, but it makes no difference. The water holds him strong and fast. It will pull him under soon. He knows it will.

He can feel pain everywhere, and he tries to call out for someone to save him because he knows he will drown. He is certain he will drown. He isn’t sure how he got to the ocean from the sky, but he is certain he has.

Maybe someone threw him in? But, he never recalls being close enough in the ocean to be thrown in ever in his life. In fact, he has never seen the ocean.

But, he is sure that the ocean is the only thing this wet and this cold.

He feels water going though his hair, but it never touches his face. He knows it will though. He is waiting for it to cover his mouth and enter his lungs. He refuses to open his eyes. For, that will make the ocean real.

He calls out again when the water suddenly gets even colder, and he is sure some creature of the deep will come up and grab him any moment. He is certain the pain spreading through his chest has something to do with the sting of some poisonous beast slithering up from the ocean to attack him. He cries out his hand flying to his chest in pain.

Then, he feels someone gently stroking his forehead with their thumb and another hand gently takes the one at his chest. He tries to lean into the touch, and squeeze the hand to alert them to his plight. He wonders if they are sinking too, but he is too tired to ask. The water is still so cold, and he hopes the person stroking his forehead will be strong enough to save them both. He wants to ask if the other person is cold too, but he can’t find the strength to ask that either.

He feels his heart racing and his stomach turning, and he thinks that might have come from the salt in the water and the fear of drowning. But, he never swallowed any water, and, so, that doesn’t make sense to him. Therefore, he decides he just has to try to will it to stop by reminding himself that help will come eventually.

He feels someone lay the back of their hand against his forehead and then his neck. The hand is a bit weather worn, but it is so soft and gentle. The voice, Étienne assumes belongs to the person attached to the hand, murmurs something he can’t make out.

A soft and sweet voice whispers into Étienne’s ear, “Just a minute more, poppet. Just a minute.”

He doesn’t understand. He is going to be rescued from the ocean in a minute? Is a boat coming?

“‘re we drowning?” He wonders towards the soft voice.

“Maybe a little, or I suppose someone might phrase it like that,” the voice’s laugh is sad.

“‘re they coming to help us?” Étienne focuses on making the words as understandable as he can.

“Yes, yes they are, poppet. Just a few more seconds I can see them.”

He notices the smile and excitement in the soft sweet voice.

“Make sure they save you first,” Étienne whispers.

The voice runs a soft hand down his cheek. “Certainly.”

 

******

 

Mrs. Potts stands up and lets Cogsworth and the others wrap Étienne up in warm towels. She walks over to the bed and sits down on the fresh sheets Mme Garderobe and Belle put on the bed.

She pulls at a loose thread and grimaces as she processes all of what had happened. She knows the way her Étienne screamed that he was going to drown would haunt her for the next few nights at least. She will never forget the way he was certain the ocean was coming up to swallow him. She will always remember, as he settled, even when he thought he was sinking, he wanted her safe. She isn’t sure what to make of him. Her little Étienne is a marvel to her. 

He is returned to her wrapped up in blankets and dressed in fresh clothing. He is sleeping rather soundly, and she can’t help but smile when they rest his head on her shoulder. She remembers holding Chip for the first time, and, somehow, this is similar.

“We’re safe now. They saved us.” She gently rocks him. “See they’re bringing us back to shore.”

Jean Potts kneels beside his wife and cups Étienne’s now cooled cheek. This is much better, Jean thinks, now, if only they can keep it this way. Jean gently strokes Étienne’s cheek with his thumb. He smiles sadly as he thinks of the last hour’s struggle. But, he will sit here with his wife tonight and keep vigil.

The sight of Étienne’s chest rising and falling is Mr. and Mrs. Potts’ favorite sight, and they are mesmerized by it. Étienne’s breathing regains an evenness that it had not had earlier that evening. And, somehow, that small improvement is everything and more to them.

The Potts’ fingers are intertwined over Étienne’s left side as if somehow their love can heal the wound beneath the light touch of their hands. They vow to protect him forever, and they don’t notice how everyone has left them now alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I have to apologize in this note, as well. I switched verb tenses mid story. I just fixed it, but it still made me embarrassed. You'll notice that every chapter up to 24 was present tense and then I flipped into past tense. I'm not sure why I did that, but I did. 
> 
> I don't think I put any intentional Easter Eggs in this chapter either. I know I'm slacking ... :( I just felt like they'd be distracting, but if you find any in there let me know. My brain is mysterious, and I do drop them in there unintentionally. 
> 
> Anyway, as always, thanks to all of you who comment consistently and to all of you who keep reading and hang around in the backdrop leaving kudos. I see you too, and I love you. I never thought this story would become so vastly popular. And I'm so happy to have written this! Thank you! It would be far more difficult writing this story without all your support. Thank you again from the bottom of my heart. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip
> 
> Hi y'all! I know I said I'd probably be finished with this by about mid-June. I don't think that's going to happen anymore. I'm putting this on a hiatus until next week. I'm sorry about that, but life just took a sudden turn that I have to keep up with.


	28. Musings and Balance Restored

Cogsworth leaves the room to find some secluded space in the hallway. He sinks down against the wall, and the rest of the company knew better than to approach him. 

He finds time to rest his head on his knees, and with every movement it becomes more clear to him that he is exhausted. His age is quickly catching up with him after the excitement from earlier that evening. 

He takes a deep steadying breath, and finds himself unable to go about checking on the others. So, he promises himself a moment of quiet as he runs through an old prayer he remembers from long ago. He hasn’t been to the Mass in many, many years, but there was one thing that stuck with him. It was an old thing a war chaplain had taught him before he’d been forced into marriage. The prayer was simple, and, in truth, he uses the form of the prayer more than the prayer itself. 

Cogsworth recites the highs and lows of his day. His mind lingers a long time over his gratitude for the life of his young charge. His mind moves over to the graces he wishes to receive tomorrow, and he tries not to sound too desperate as he asks that Étienne make it through the night. 

After his moment of solitude, he rises from his odd position in the hallway and makes his way towards the stairs up to the roof where Lumière, Chip, Plumette, and Stanley resided. 

His thoughts lingered with Étienne’s thrashing form in the cold water. He doubts that image will leave soon for all Étienne’s wounds were exposed then for him to see. He recalls the most recent wound with the skin around it red and angry, but the wound itself appeared to be coming together somewhat. He shudders at the thoughts of the bite mark in the center of Étienne’s abdomen, and, now that his fears have been confirmed, it elicits more anger inside him. 

Then, there was the matter of Étienne’s back. Cogsworth looks up towards the sky hoping that he’ll never have to see it again soon. The sight of it, he thinks, would be enough to break a heart of stone or ice. Cogsworth muses what kind of creature could create the patterns of scars Étienne had lining his back. For, the thing responsible could not have been human. Cogsworth recalls how just minutes before he had run cool water over the scars, and he doubts that anyone had bothered to clean those one open wounds with any sort of care before now. He can base all of that on the current state of the scars. He can’t help but think of Étienne’s former guardian as more ogre than man given the handiwork he’d created with his belt. 

Cogsworth tries to remove the image of how his charges back looked as though it had been struck by raised lighting from his mind. He feels inside that he will never forget it. Then, he comes to think about the quiet plea that they find a way to save Beatrice first. Despite the cold, and despite thinking he was drowning, Étienne had turned to Beatrice and asked her to ensure that she was saved first. 

Cogsworth finds tears springing forth involuntarily from his eyes. He wishes, somehow, that all of this might have come slowly to them. That he might have chosen to confide in them over cups of tea and long walks. The methods by which they have been discovering Étienne’s life seem intrusive at best, but it’s not as though any one of them desired this to happen. 

All the same, Cogsworth imagines the boy sitting down to dinner with them, and quickly picking up trades by shadowing them. He thinks about the happiness that should be sweeping the village and the house hold. He wonders about the staff members who left to be reunited with their families, and he hopes beyond all hope that they are happy and safe. He thinks that’s the least they deserve after all these years of painful solitude. 

He reaches the doorway of the tower where Stanley, Plumette, Lumière, and Chip are standing staring up at the sky. 

Cogsworth watches them, and somehow he finds himself transported back to a time when life was easier. He recalls when Adam’s mother was still alive, and Stanley was just beginning to crawl. He thinks about the Potts’ having somehow found out Étienne’s situation and taking him here to keep him safe within the castle walls. For, a moment he almost imagines it’s real. 

Lumière turns around and sees Cogsworth’s somewhat wistful expression. He decides to proceed gently. 

“Come out with us,” Lumière offers. 

Cogsworth gives a half-start, but smiles slightly as he steps onto the moonlit balcony. 

Cogsworth stands out in the expanse of the universe for only a few minutes before he finds himself at peace. There is something right and harmonious about this moment as the stars watch over them. For once, the night is quiet and calm. He can smell the roses blooming in the garden below them. He feels like he is stepping back into a memory for a moment, and that somehow, in all of the chaos, something is about to fall back into place. 

“I remember.” The voice is deep but soft, and, to Cogsworth, it breaks through the stillness like a thought he had long forgotten. 

“It’s you!” There is excitement. “We used to go up on this roof to stare up into the sky every night! We’d wait here, and see all the constellations wondering when we would be found!” 

Cogsworth smiles. 

“I thought you’d never remember.” Light. Gracious. Smooth. 

It sounds like feathers and soft down when he hears her smile at the realization. 

Somehow, he finds, amidst the chaos, the tumult, and the strife there is peace. 

_Once again_ , Cogsworth thinks, _there is balance._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! 
> 
> I'm so sorry for how long it's taken to get an update. I was completely unaware how busy this month would be. I'm currently in an accelerated grad program, and this month was super busy. I'd thought I'd still have time to write on the weekends, but I had projects due almost every day of the week. I was not expecting this to happen when I made the commitment to being done with this story by about this time. 
> 
> My life is back to a more normal state, so I should have more time to write now. I've been sitting with all the ideas for how to finish this in my head for a month, so hopefully I will actually have the time to write them. 
> 
> That being said, I had planned on writing some longer fics in the future. Sadly, I don't think that will occur again for quite some time. I plan to continue writing one-shots for this fandom, however, it will likely be a while before I can have time to write for a fic this long consistently. 
> 
> I hope you all continue to enjoy this fic and whatever else I am able to get around to writing, but, as it will be my first year in my new job, I don't want to commit to writing anything long. 
> 
> I don't think I put any movie related Easter Eggs in this chapter, though, if you're Catholic, you might recognize the Examen popping up in here. 
> 
> Well, that's about if folks. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	29. Like A Flower Towards the Sun

They wake up together in a dirty apartment, and, for a moment, they aren’t even sure if the apartment is theirs. There are two unmade beds in the corner, and a bookshelf filled with a few odd books on every subject. 

It’s the bookshelf that helps Tom remember that this mess is his. 

He tries to sit up, but the headache that he has is reminiscent of something even worse than a hangover. He hasn't had a hangover in three years. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Dick asks him. “Because one minute we were in the tavern, and then it’s black for a long time, and now we’re home.” 

Tom turns his head toward the sound of his friend’s voice. Dick has managed to turn himself onto his side, and Tom tries to copy the movement. It’s a struggle but he turns on his side enough to face the other man. 

“I have no idea. We were alone in the tavern with … with Agathe?” He squints his eyes, and tries to wrack his brain for information. 

He hadn’t even drank yet that night. He'd been tempted, but he knew he didn't. He hadn’t even ordered a water, or any drink for that matter, so he couldn't have drank anything laced with poison. 

What happened? 

How did they get here? 

When did they get here? 

The questions cause the room to spin. 

“Gaston threatened Maurice, didn’t he?” Dick asks him a touch of fear evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, we all knew it would happen,” Tom whispers. “But, what does that have to do with anything?  


“I think LeFou came clean?” Dick presses. “I think I remember that.”

Tom’s eyes go wide. “Yeah. Yeah that did happen didn’t it? Shit. Where is he? Oh shit. No.” 

Tom forces his spinning world right, and tries to find his jacket. “Wait …” 

“I think …” Dick whimpers. 

“Why? Why did that happen? I wouldn’t … I would never …” Tom sinks down against the wall pulling his knees up to his chest.

“It wasn’t just you.” Dick gets up and sits next to Tom. “I did it, too.”

“But, why?” Tom knits his eye brows together. “I just … I just wouldn’t. If I were in my right mind.”

Dick moves away from Tom instinctually knowing that Tom needs his space in times like this. Dick also knows, if they want answers, Tom will likely find one if he has space to think. So, Dick sits down on the dusty windowsill. 

Dick looks around the room to see if there are any clues as to how long they’d been passed out on the floor. 

Tom sits with his chin on his knees taking long deep breaths. 

_Think Thomas, damnit. Think! What the hell happened. Gaston … he … he told the village. Most people chased Maurice and LeFou out of the tavern. We were alone with Agathe. Then … then we followed everyone out._ Tom retraces the shadowy images of that night.

The images blur around him as he tries to make out faces. But, there is no moment of clarity in all of that night. It's like his memory has been erased by some supernatural force. He feels panic seize his heart a moment, but he remembers there was nothing that passed his lips that could have made his memory move so slow and so fast. So, why can't he remember anything? 

He wonders if he really did what he secretly wanted to under the guise of thinking he was above that. Maybe his primal urges to be with a man came out in his stupid joke because no one would see him for what he was in that moment. 

_But surely,_ he thinks, _I wouldn’t have done it that way. I wouldn’t have humiliated the poor kid. I thought I was above that._

He wonders if maybe it was just his way of fitting in. He has always been a head in the clouds dreamer, though, not really. He is far more practical than he lets on. But, his practicality always appears a little different. He admires Belle. He really does. 

After the war, he fell back into bad habits that he was trying to break. It’s why he was certain he hadn’t drank that night. He hasn’t touched alcohol in three years. He would often ask the bar tenders to pour straight water into a mug to make it look like he was partying hard. But, Stanley wouldn’t have let him touch anything else, and Stanley was right there. 

“Tom,” Dick whispers, “I think I know what happened.” 

“Hm? Glad you do because I got nothing.” Tom looks over at Dick.

“We were alone with Agathe in the tavern right? And, I mean nothing against her when I say this, but I think she cursed us.” Dick lets the words fall out in a rush.

“Dick that’s preposterous. Maybe, maybe, Gaston hit us over the head and we got a momentary concussion.” Tom shakes his head. 

“I don’t think that it’s that ridiculous,” Dick states. “I mean. She lives with an owl in the woods.” 

“I think you’re trying to place blame on someone who can’t defend herself because I wanted a moment to let someone take the fall for what we are,” Tom snaps.

“That is most certainly not true!” Dick retorts. “You know that’s not true. Why is your entire life based on how big a failure you are? Can’t you once actually use that rational brain of yours for something other than berating yourself for something that might not even be your fault?” 

Tom opens his mouth to rebuttal, but decides against it. 

_Maybe Dick’s right_ , he thinks, _maybe she did do something to us._

“Look, let’s say you’re right. What proof do you have?” Tom concedes. 

“Well, she approached us, and then she glowed.” Dick punctuates each thought with a nod. 

“I-I don’t remember that.” Tom shakes his head confused. 

“It happened, I swear it did. She turned us around saying something about …”

Tom’s eyes go wide. “Saying something about needing to kill a beast to …”

“Get a beauty to say …”

“I love you.” They finished together. 

Tom presses a hand to his eyes, and Dick leans heavy against the wall. 

“We were pawns in her game.” Tom presses his thumb and pointer finger into his eyes. 

Dick just lets a few tears fall down his cheeks. “If I was Stanley, I’d never believe or forgive us.”

“Then we have to find her,” Tom says matter-of-factly. “We have to bring her to the castle we went to. We have to find them! Dick, something could have gone really wrong! What if she hurt them, too? I don’t trust her not to have hurt Stanley or LeFou. They were just in her way. She could have easily hurt them, too. In fact, she already used us to hurt LeFou to stall for her ‘beauty.’”

“What if she hurt Belle? I mean …” 

“I know.” Tom pushes himself up off the ground. 

“We can’t accuse her. We could hardly be proof.” Dick rushes to the door. 

“We don’t need to hang our accounts on our word.” Tom opens the door and locks it. 

“Oh?” Dick is half way down the stairs. 

“No, she’s going to clean up her own damn mess,” Tom growls a new determination in his eyes. 

Dick follows him like a flower follows the sun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for stanfouqueen who has been anxiously anticipating this chapter since I told her about it. :) 
> 
> So, new developments. I wanted to get Agathe involved, and I needed a plausible way to do this. Tom and Dick being innocent was always in my head since I wrote it, but I never thought about using them as the plot device I needed till about three weeks ago. So, here they are. The dynamic duo that Maestro will surely meet soon. 
> 
> Yeah I sort of made them an Enjolras/Grantaire pairing with some marked differences. But, that's really the only Easter Egg I could find this chapter. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine. I'm cranking out some chapters so that you all have stuff to read while I take one more deep breath before the plunge. This month has been literal insanity. 
> 
> But, anyway. Thanks for sticking with this, as always. And thanks for reviewing newbies and old readers alike. I always look forward to that 1 or 2 in my inbox. It makes my weeks. 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	30. 30 Minute Wine Party

They leave the roof quietly. Chip is nestled in Lumière’s arms, and Lumière and Cogsworth slip him into bed. The two men leave Stanley and Plumette on the roof to catch up, and, as they pass the corridor, they can hear the excited exchange of whispers. 

Lumière looks over at Cogsworth and notices that, if possible, Cogsworth looks deeper in thought than usual. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Lumière gives Cogsworth a cheeky grin. 

Cogsworth chuckles to himself. “There’s nothing really to tell, _cher_.” 

Lumière nods his understanding. “I see. Well, we should go to the kitchens. I am starving.” 

Lumière glows with pride as this elicits a soft laugh from Cogsworth. 

“Somethings never change,” Cogsworth laughs.

They shove open the door to the kitchen, and Lumière pops open a bottle of wine. 

Cogsworth gives him a skeptical look as a glass is set in front of him along with half a baguette. 

“30 minute break.” Lumière smiles warmly. “Humor me.” 

Cogsworth couldn’t ever resist that smile. He finds it the only thing on earth that can truly draw out all of him. Lumière is a sunshine in darkness. For when the whole world is out of balance, the smile on his son’s face is right. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a while. There is nothing but the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the ticking of a grandfather clock surrounding them. They close their eyes and smile contented to feel each joint of their body while shrouded in the comforting and familiar sounds of the last five years. 

The warm glow of the flames send shadows dancing along the floor, but the shadows are steady and somehow predictable, and the clocks’ hands move around its face in smooth methodical ways. They are counting each minute and second. Each breath is held for a second or two, released, and then taken again greedily as if the time in which these breaths will stop is keenly felt. 

The smell of the smoke coming from the slightly soggy wood is evident, but it doesn't blind them. There is merely a sense of the burning wood that they both smell with each breath through their noses. The smell of the polish on the clock’s long wooden body is evident as well. It smells fresh, like lemons, and there is a sense of sterility to the smell. However, when it combines with the scent of the smoldering log it’s comforting and smells like home. 

The wine is fresh and crisp against the tongue. It goes down just a little too easy. Cogsworth can taste the bitterness of the red Bordeaux as it plays in his mouth. He hasn’t had a moment like this in five long years, and for these next thirty minutes he remembers what these nights were like. The taste of the red wine and all its bittersweetness calls to mind every midnight conversations with his son. Lumière remembers the desire to propose to Plumette five long years ago, and Cogsworth feels that the wine must be getting to him because he longs to reach out and take Lumière’s hand and tell him that life is too short to wait. 

The glass sits just between his fingers, and he holds the glass just around the base. He admires it, but his eyes don’t linger long on the red in the glass. Lumière smiles at the idea that he can feel something other than flames in his hands. He admires the smoothness of the rounded base, but sets it down. He takes the old wrinkled hands in his. Lumière wonders how many people these hands have touched, and what mighty deeds these hands he’s holding have preformed. He runs a hand over a vein that protrudes from the skin. He notes how fine, soft, and thin the skin on his father’s freckled hands are. He realizes that Cogsworth is old, and he notices how his jokes about how ancient his father sometimes seemed are not that funny in times like these. He listens to the ticking of the clock, and he smiles running his thumb over the vein and paper skin. 

There is a stripe of lighting followed by a loud clap of thunder. Then, there is a blissful sound of rain. It is monotonous and calming. They hear laughing echoing through the hallways and then a quiet hush followed by something in Italian. 

Balance. The sound of rain, laughter, the cracking of fire, and ticking clocks is balance. 

Cogsworth and Lumière both look at each other with a smile. For, between a father and his son, few words need to be said at this juncture in their lives. 

Cogsworth finishes the wine and the last of the baguette when there is a knock at the door. 

Lumière raises his eyebrows, but he gets up and pokes his head out of the kitchen door. 

Chapeau cocks his head and gives Lumière a nervous stare. 

The anxiety of that moment could be cut with a knife. For, it has started to rain, and the castle is being called on at a late hour when they expected no visitors. 

The rapping on the door continues. 

Cadenza pulls his wife close to him, and he stares down the door. He recalls how he just sat with his children again. He put his arms around his son’s shoulders for the first time in five years. He makes a vow to his God that there will be nothing that takes that away from him again. He and his wife will be together this time. 

Gardarobe smiles knowing her son and daughter are together in a room. Safe. Together. They will never forget each other again. 

Cogsworth swallows thickly, and the sounds and sights and smells that were once a comfort have, once more, become a curse. 

There is a cry that rips forth from the top of the stairs, and Cogsworth’s head turns slowly towards the sound. 

Belle is holding Adam tightly against her. 

Mr. Potts, Mrs. Potts, Maurice, Stanley, Chip, and Plumette remain blissfully unaware of the rain, of the knocking, and of the tenseness that has entered in the sound of a knock at the door. 

Chapeau cautiously opens the door, and the sight that greets them is something no one had expected. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm so sorry about the long wait. I've been trying to figure out how not to end this chapters on cliff hangers, and thus, I haven't updated. I've decided just to give you what I have for now instead of making you wait until I can land steadily at the end of a chapter. 
> 
> I don't think I put any easter eggs in this one that aren't directly from the movie, but if you find one that I forgot drop me a message. Though, the title comes from Grey's Anatomy "30 Second Dance Party." 
> 
> I am trying to make Sunday the day for updates and replies, but I have a lot of work to do for my new job so I'm not sure how many comments I'll be able to reply to today. 
> 
> Thanks,  
> Pip


	31. The Witch at the Gate

A grizzled Tom and Dick walk through the door followed by Agathe. She steps into the castle carefully, and it is easy for her to sense the tenseness her presence brings. She smirks at it. She is glad they now know the full extent of her power. 

“Tell them,” Tom demands looking at her with fire and brimstone in his eyes. “Tell them what you did to us. You know what you’ve done.” 

“And if I refuse?” She stares him down with as much fire in her eyes as are in his. 

“Then they will witness it. They will know that my lucidity is lost right here in front of them. They’ll know. And, I know well, they’ve already seen what magical mischief you can get people into against their will,” Tom hisses. 

“And I could wipe their minds again so they forget soon after,” she stares deeply into his eyes. 

For a moment, Tom feels himself being pulled into what she desires. He hears her voice in his ear asking him if he really wants to be the next Beast. She asks him how far he will press her. 

Dick steps off to the side looking up at the castle staff. He sees people pressed close to one another. There is terror in their expressions. 

_Agathe has wounded them,_ he thinks. _She hurt them like she hurt us._

Dick gently moves forward towards the top of the stairs where he sees Belle. 

“Mlle Belle.” He gives her a low bow. “Please. We have been out of our minds for at least a week if not longer. We were lost to life shortly after the battle, and have only just recently woken up into our own bodies, so to speak, if you follow me, Mlle.” 

Belle cocks her head slightly. “I’m sorry. I don’t follow.” 

“Mlle, I think the witch, the lady Agathe, begging your pardon, bewitched us. It sounds unlikely, to be sure, but we awoke just a few days ago in our flat. Well, that was Tom and me, we did. And we had no idea where we’d been, or what we’d done at all. See, we were in the tavern as your father was getting accused of unsavory actions. And, then M. LeFou, bless his heart, steps in and tries to be noble. See, and then, and then there was nothing. Well, for a time at least. So, see Tom and me. We start talking, and we figure out that Agathe was the last in thetavern with us that night before everything went black. And Tom, Tom’s the lucid one, he hasn’t touched a drop of liquor in a long time. See, so if he doesn’t remember, then, Mlle, there was something right wrong with that situation.” 

Belle watches Dick wring his hands through the entire little speech. 

“She cursed you,” Adam says with sureness. “I believe you, my friend, no questions. I trust you.” 

“Master, truly?” Dick stares at him wide-eyed. 

“Yes.” Adam gives a nod and a smile.

Belle gives Adam a soft look, and then nods him forward towards Agathe. 

He stares at her with all of the fear of a frightened child, but he swallows stepping forward down the stairs. He thanks every deity he knows the name of that Agathe does not spot him right away. 

Belle looks at Dick whose eyes are downcast. 

“Is M. Stanley alright, and what of M. LeFou?” Dick asks quickly. “She forced us into some unsavory behaviors. Which, Mlle, I’m sorry you had to see.” 

Belle shakes her head and embraces him tightly. “You were so brave to seek her out. Of course, we will have to try and straighten out many things with Stanley. But, I’m sure he will come to understand. He has already begun to understand the depth of Agathe’s magic as it separated him from his family these last five years.”

Dick’s eyes went wide as Belle pressed his hands with hers. 

Her face went funny for a minute. “How did you bring her here? What did you do to convince her?” 

“Well, Tom, Tom was right angry Mlle when he found out what happened. So, he asked people in the village for some leads to where Agathe might be hiding. And then, Mlle, well, he found her in a little hut in the woods. She seemed right pleased with herself about something. So, Tom asked her to explain herself. He told her what I told you. He told her how we’d figured it all out Mlle, and, like I said, he was right angry about it all. He got real frustrated, asking why she’d done it. See, Mlle, Tom used to be a right heavy drinker, and when he woke up he was scared he’d gone back to old habits, if you follow me.”

“I follow you fine now.” Belle smiles tightly as her eyes train on Adam and then on Tom. Adam is standing off to the side of Tom and Agathe’s increasingly heated discourse. She doesn’t blame Tom. She doesn’t blame him even a little.

“Well, then ya see, he asks her if she knew what happened to M. Stanley and M. LeFou. And, Mlle, she laughed. She said she didn’t care about what happened to them. They weren’t part of her “good deed.” We had little idea what she was referring to. But, Tom became quite enraged when he found out that she didn’t care about any of the trouble she’d caused us. We’d heard from quite a few of the neighbors, Mlle, that you and many others from the village had come to this castle. We also heard that M. Stanley and M. LeFou hadn’t yet returned. So, we told her that she had to come with us. We told her it wasn’t an option. She asked us for payment, if you can believe it. So, we gave her a small handful of gold. It was all we had, Mlle, but we were quite close to the M.’s Stanley and LeFou.” 

Belle looks up and prays for strength because she doesn’t want to think about breaking the news to two men whose last interactions with her two new companions had been completely out of their control.

“So, she agreed to accompany us here, but only after we’d paid her.” Dick finishes his story with a sharp nod. “It didn’t begin to rain till we approached the gates. But, she and Tom have been bickering like this for some time. We passed a few villagers who joked she’d finally found a worthy husband. But, see, M. Tom … he’s not like that Mlle. Not even a little bit. There’s nothing unsavory about him, Mlle, he’s just a confirmed bachelor is all.” 

Belle raises her eyebrows. “Oh?”

It’s at this time that their conversation is interrupted by Adam’s voice. It rises up into the rafters shaking the walls in frustration.

Belle hasn’t heard that voice since he commanded her to dinner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Labor Day weekend! 
> 
> I'm so excited to have another chapter of the story up for you! Once again this is a pretty big cliffhanger, but it was the only logical place to end the chapter. 
> 
> I didn't really see any true Easter Eggs in this chapter other than you'll notice that Dick talks a bit like Sam Gamgee. I don't know where exactly I got that impression, but there it is. 
> 
> All the Best to you and yours this holiday! 
> 
> Cheers,  
> Pip


	32. Transition of Management

“Listen to me!” Adam pleads his voice loosing its angry potency with each word. “Thank you. I am sorry, but it seemed impossible to get your attention any other way.” 

 “How much you’ve learned,” Agathe says snidely. 

 Adam backs away from her clearly frightened. 

 “Want another round with _your_ beloved a feather duster?” She grins.

 Cogsworth puts a hand on Lumière’s chest to hold him back. 

 “I have the power here, you know. I gave you life. I can take it back.” Agathe approaches him quickly and aggressively. 

 “I believe them,” Adam says. “Why did you do it?” 

 “I needed them. I needed them to distract him. I needed him to kill you. I needed to hear her words. Three little words.”

 “As if her actions weren’t enough?” Gardarobe demands. 

 “No. I wanted to hear it. I wanted to see it. I knew you’d come around right away. But, her,” Agathe grins mockingly over her shoulder at Belle, “I would believe it till I heard and saw it with my own eyes.” 

 “My grief … it wasn’t enough for you?” Belle asks. “I was crying over his body. Why wasn’t that enough?” 

“The words needed to match the actions. I wanted to watch them come out of your lips.” She smirks. “The little fat one was an easy distraction. It would have been nice if he hadn’t meddled so much. The old man would have done just fine.”  

“That old man is my father! And, you do know that people have names, Mlle Agathe, surely.” Belle scolds.

“Why bother with names that are … expendable. I did my duty. Anyone else who got in my way. The way of your love, was, how do I say this … useless.” Agathe grins staring Adam in the eyes.

He looks away, but everywhere he looks her eyes are there. 

“He was a fun one. A good beast,” she laughs, “Yes a great beast.” 

Lumière tries in vain to grab Cogsworth’s wrist, but there is nothing he can do.

“You.” Cogsworth straightens to full height. “You must be gone. Now. Or, I have another proposal for you. Do you think yourself strong enough to see what our eyes have seen? I may not have magic, but there is magic in medicine. Come. See what your attitude has put us through if you think you are brave enough. But, Mme., I will tell you. That you are the weakest woman I have ever laid eyes on. You are the most slithering snake I have ever met. You are a devil, child, and I pray, if I can, that someone has mercy on you. For, it will not be me.”

Agathe looks at him, and she admires him. She is in awe of him, but only for a moment.  

“I will find a way to make you pay for that old man. You would not make such a marvelous beast, but your son did make such a lovely candle.” She casts a loving glance at Lumière. “Wouldn’t that be a pity. Still, there must be something you love that I haven’t changed yet. Your lover is dead, so that won’t do …” 

“How do you know this?” Cogsworth asks desperately only to be met with a malicious grin.

“Your dear Lumière has been mangled into led. Surely, since it’s happened before, it would not be such a shame to have it happen again.” Agathe smirks. 

Tom inches closer to the shaking man, Adam, against the wall. He will never say this out loud, but he’s terrified. 

“Oh,” Agathe starts laughing, “Oh that’s rich! That’s right. I’d almost forgotten that happened. You old fool! Did you think you could persuade me to save him? Is that what you wanted to show me.” 

Adam is fuming with every fiber of his being on fire with distain for Agathe. Agathe who never cared about him or anyone. Agathe who hated him. Agathe who despised everyone. Adam realized that she wasn’t trying to help him or his people. No, this Enchantress was out for blood. She was out for her own gain. 

No, not gain, her own amusement. 

Tom lets Adam go. He watches the man fume with a just rage. The anger that had once been a tool for lashing out at people had now become attached to something greater than himself. 

Lumière looks over to his Master in hopes that Adam has a plan to keep Agathe from murdering Cogsworth or Étienne. But, suddenly, Lumière sees Adam bathed in golden light. His Master’s face was always beautiful, but now, it is angelic. The golden swirls illuminate his hands, and they slowly find their way around Adam’s entire body. 

“Agathe!” Adam’s voice rings out through the halls. “Agathe! I hereby strip you of your powers!” 

Cogsworth spins around on his heal almost in shock. He falls to his knees before Adam who is hovering just above the ground shrouded in a warm glow.

“The council has chosen this vessel. The vessel that you cursed. You have confessed your true intentions! You have shown to us your true nature!” Adam’s mouth moves but it is not his voice. 

“I’m sorry. It was a joke. No!” She falls forward her arms outstretched.  

“Silence! In failing those you have tried to change for good, you have chosen the path of evil! Our council will not allow it!” Adam looks down at her. 

Agathe shakes. Her shoulders are vibrating, and her head moves from side to side. Her pleading “no’s” turn more desperate. 

Tom runs to Dick’s side as soon as he notices Adam is hovering. The two of them hold Belle close to them. Her eyes are wide with shock as the scene plays out before her.  

“You will not be granted a chance for repentance! For, in your time as an Enchantress of the Golden Lights, YOU offered no forgiveness! Your word was law! Therefore, the council has decided the same for you! Our word …” there is a long pause. “Is law!” 

There is a sudden transference of light like a golden wave that leaves Agathe in an instant. The golden wave pours forth from her and hovers in the air. 

Agathe looks around and, seeing her magic above her, she screams and runs out of the castle. The last they hear of her is a door that slams loudly behind her. 

“Where!” Adam’s body is still speaking to them, but everyone is now painfully aware it is not Adam. “Where, is the one called Étienne? The council has since seen him to be one of good and wise judgement. He is filled with truth, and strength of spirit. The council wishes to bestow Agathe’s magic upon him.” 

Tom and Dick look at each other confused, for they have yet to find out who “Étienne” is.

The others cast long glances at one another, and the specter waits in uncomfortable silence. 

There is a loud cry coming from the East Wing.

“We will meet him now,” the specter says, “Do not despair.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus. I had an unexpected day off on Friday that finally allowed me to have some time to write again. 
> 
> I promise I'm not leaving it here. I actually had this chapter written since the last one went up. However, I couldn't leave this chapter as the last one I posted before my job really came in full force. 
> 
> Do not despair. ;)


	33. Chapter 33

Adam is gently released by the golden light onto the floor. Belle rushes forward to grab him before he has a chance to rest completely on the tile. 

He opens his eyes and sees everyone in various states of shock. Some mouths are open and others are shaking. The door to the castle is still slightly ajar from when Agathe burst through it. 

Minutes go by, yet, no one moves because no one is quite sure how. 

Adam breaks the silence, “What happened?” 

Belle looks around the room for a moment. “I-I don’t know how to explain. You were taken over by a force? It scared Agathe, and she ran away after her powers were taken from her.” 

“Then,” Lumière speaks, “It told us not to despair and disappeared.”

The screaming from the East Wing reverberates around the room like a fog blocking the sunlight.

They are all suddenly startled from their confusion a second reminder of the screaming. 

Cogsworth moves first and scrambles up the stairs with Lumière right behind him. 

Belle keeps Adam tucked into her despite him trying to move. 

“Stay,” she whispers. “Please. Don’t go.” 

He looks up into her eyes that are wide with fear. He realizes that they are likely a perfect mirror of his own. So, he stays until they both decide they want to leave. 

Dick and Tom remain standing at the door. 

They shift uncomfortably until Maestro Cadenza and Mme Gardarobe guide them into the kitchen. 

“We’ll stay with you until the storm passes.” Cadenza says gently taking Tom’s hand.

Tom's not sure if she means that figuratively or literally, but he nods gratefully as the pressure is slowly released.

It is a long time before anyone speaks. 

“I’m sure you would like to know what happened to your friends,” the Maestro begins. 

Tom and Dick both nod.

“We would be most grateful. If it’s not a bother on you or the missis.” Dick looks away.

As the Maestro and Mme update them, Tom and Dick's expressions turn from shock, to horror, and finally to resigned sadness.

“He- he can't be dead. He was such a good kid. A funny kid, but a good one. No mistake.” Tom punches his fist into the table. “God Damnit! Why not me?” 

Dick doesn’t say anything. There is nothing quite like grief. 

Tom’s known grief, and Dick knows Tom’s grief well. Tom’s grief is angry and loud. It wants you to know it’s there. It’s like a lion mourning loss. Dick knows what happened to Étienne as well as Tom does. 

Dick knows that grief can leave you empty, but, for some, it leaves them murderous. Tom fell mostly into the latter category. 

But, Dick’s grief has always been the empty kind. It’s a sense of nothingness and emptiness that can never be filled by anything other than what you’ve lost and know you can’t have again. 

Dick knows he’s not getting their “little fool” back. Dick knows that the tavern songs are gone, and that Étienne’s laugh is gone. He knows they're here because their grief can’t be shared by Stanley. Dick knows that Stanley doesn’t deserve to have to process what they've been through. He knows this even though he knows that Stanley could benefit from a stiff drink and a long hug. 

Grief just doesn’t work like that. 

Stanley’s grief was always quiet but never empty. Stanley’s grief, in Dick's memory, was just sad. It was two twin tears down his cheeks. It never made a big deal of itself, but it needed to be outside just enough for the world to know that it wasn’t empty. 

Dick remembered when Stanley first had a reason to grieve. Stanley couldn't remember something important. He lost his memories, and he grieved for it. Hell, they'd all grieved for it. Dick was there for Stanley then, and he wanted to be there again. 

But, he resisted.

The screaming and sobbing upstairs had intensified, and, for some reason, Dick retreated further into himself to try to make sense of the universe in his own way. 

Tom punched a wall, but everyone ignored it. 

He was grieving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter Eggs: 
> 
> "Like a lion mourning loss" - Lion King reference 
> 
> "Little Fool" - really loose reference to Pippin Took from Lord of the Rings 
> 
>  
> 
> Yeah, there's another one just like this one coming. I'm showing off a little for two chapters before I'll get back to the plot. Indulge me. 
> 
> Thanks.


	34. Grief

Adam grieves in soft footfalls up the stairs to the library. He grieves in hiding and small spaces. He grieves in familiar things like books in Old and Middle French. He grieves in nooks and crannies trying to hide from some invisible force that can't be seen. He knows if the force finds him grieving it will make the force unhappy. He's always been taught to make the force happy. But, he wonders if the force is still there, or if he's free to let grief take him this time. 

Belle follows him because she grieves in company. Her head falls on his chest as she tries to make sense of why she got a happy ending when others she loves couldn’t. She grieves curled up in Adam’s arms. She grieves safe and loathing her safety. She doesn't cry, but she just breathes instead. She just breathes and listens to Adam breathing. She loves that sound, and she's angry she gets to hear it. She doesn't cry until she thinks that Stanley can't hear his love's breathing any more. 

Chip grieves in little sobs. He tries to hide from grief, but it finds him anyway. He builds a blanket fort and tries to teach the guards how to keep grief out. He tries to tell them what it looks like, but he's surprised he doesn't really know its many faces. So, he grieves wrapped in blankets and searching hugs that he can’t quite find. 

Plumette grieves in fire. She lights as many candles as she can find and lays down in the center of them. Her tearstained face glows in the flames. She prays that light will guide him home. She prays that like fire he will guide them because she knows they are lost without him. She prays until her muscles are sore from kneeling on the floor with her forehead pressed into the tile. 

Mme Gardarobe and Maestro Cadenza grieve in song. They sing an accapella requiem in a back room where no one can hear them. They hold each other close, perhaps, in hopes that they might fuse together. Everything has been taken from them, and so in one last effort their notes press tightly together to form a broken mosaic. They try to keep their voices steady, but when the music should swell their voices waver. Despite failing to keep steady, they keep trying. 

Lumière grieves in darkness. He closes the door. He lights nothing. He draws the curtains so even the light from the lighting and the moon can't find him. He presses his eyes into his knees so he can see nothing but blue and red dots like fireworks blazing. He opens his eyes to flashes of white, and he realizes he can't escape light or colors. So, he just stares at the floor. He recounts everything he could have done to prevent from the moment he was born until this moment he inhabits. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he’s choking on his sadness. 

Cogsworth grieves in movement. He leaves the castle and runs out into the rain. He lets himself pace in the muddy walk up to the castle. He soaks in the wetness like an old oak whose roots are dry. He soaks in the water until he's drenched, and he lets it remind him he's still here. He is still in the world. The world still exists. He relishes in the cold of the rain because it reminds him that he’s still here. He grounds himself in the rain.

Mr. Potts grieves in art. He sits down and does what he remembers how to do. He finds a potters wheel in the bar and he heaves up some clay. He makes things. His hands have never known how to do anything but make things. He realizes as his creations are baking in the kiln that everything he makes is fragile. However, he has learned to design things that won’t break under the weight of everyday use. Sometimes, these things remind him of people. They are meant for everyday tasks like loving, breathing, baking, making things, and, occasionally, breaking things. But, humans nor his creations are not made to be pushed so far they break. 

Maurice grieves by holding things. He holds Stanley when everyone disperses. He catches up to Stanley just below the ladder to the roof. He sinks to the floor and pulls Stanley down into him. Maurice wraps his arms around a boy who has loved a love and lost his love. He knows every crack in Stanley’s armor because so many years ago they were his own. So, Maurice becomes Stanley's armor when it falls apart. Maurice rocks Stanley, and he fights to keep a hold on him as Stanley tries to run away. Maurice grieves by holding Stanley because, even if its not what he would have wanted when his love passed, its what is needed when love leaves. 

Mrs. Potts grieves in tears. She locks the door to the servants’ quarter and sobs. She sinks down onto her hands and knees. She presses her eyes with the heal of her hand to try and stop the tears from coming. She pounds the floor with her fist. She asks God to bring him back. After awhile, she’s not sure how long she cries, but she cries until her throat is sore and no more tears can be made. She cries because she’s powerless. She cries because she couldn’t do more. She cries because there’s nothing left to do anymore. 

Stanley grieves silent. The tears are so fast and so hard he can’t breathe enough to make sound. Stanley grieves in flailing limbs, and an absolute uncertainty of where to go. He has no idea what he wants or what he needs beyond wanting to not be here, in his body, in this moment. He wants to escape the hands reminding him that he is there, in his body, in this moment. He wants to float away like a balloon in the sky somehow, or he wants to be a star burning brightly in the darkness. But, he doesn’t want to be Stanley. For a brief moment, he's not sure he is Stanley anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter Eggs:
> 
> Stanley's grieving has the only two in the chapter. The balloon is an "Up" reference, and the star is a reference to the "When You Wish Upon a Star" song. 
> 
>  
> 
> I have to admit I might be showing off just a little bit in this chapter. I haven't written anything for the sake of writing anything in a while, and grief seemed like a good musing point. I love exploring emotions and different ways to describe them. So, thank you for letting me take you on my little writing joy ride. 
> 
> Additionally, thank you for being one of the most patient and loyal audiences ever. You are all amazing.


	35. Floating Falling Sweet Intoxication

Étienne is floating. That is the first sensation he registers. He touches the ground gently. He is lying on his back looking up at the sky. 

The sky is surprisingly clear both in the sense that his vision isn't blurred in its normal smears, and that there doesn't seem to be anything but white puffy clouds filling the blue space. 

He turns his head and sees long blades of grass covered in summer dew. He’s not sure if he recognizes this field or not, but, wherever it is, it's peaceful. 

He closes his eyes and breathes in the sweet floral air. He brushes his hand over the petals of soft baby blue mountain flowers, and he feels a smile come over his face. He gently ruffles them and takes in the feeling of their somewhat leathery but fragile petals. He rubs the petals between his thumbs and takes in all of the color and clarity of the mountains around him. 

He slowly starts to realize that the pain he has felt most of the last few weeks is gone, and it has been replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace. He finds himself filled with a stillness of spirit he hasn't felt in many years. 

He finds himself aware that he is not alone. 

He turns his head and discovers that Cosette is smiling at him. 

“Hello,” she whispers. 

His eyes widen with realization. “Am - Am I dead?” 

Her face falls a moment, “Yes. But, you won’t be for long if you accept an offer.” 

“What kind of offer?” Étienne asks inching closer to her.

“I’ve been sent here to you,” she picks up his hands and plays with them. 

She holds him in her lap like she did when he was just young. He wonders how old her looks to her. 

“To offer you a second chance at life,” she breaks the comfortable silence with the statement. 

“Why? How?” He quirks his eyebrows. 

“The High Council has asked that you wield a special magic.” She lifts his chin. “They want you to become a sorcerer for them.” 

“But,” he shakes his head, “How? A-and why now?” 

“The magic Agathe wielded has been taken from her. She was careless and cruel with it. The High Council saw it fit to strip her of the powers she possessed. She didn’t use her powers in the way she was entrusted and asked to, and so they have been taken from her.” She laughs to herself. 

“That’s not funny!” Étienne lightly whacked her shoulder. “That’s serious stuff! Who’s going to take over for her? What were her powers any way?”

“I’m laughing because they chose you ‘Tienne. They saw what _maman_ and I always saw in you. They saw your honesty and your courage. They saw how brave you are, and how strong and good you are. They told me that you had grown up to be wise, and you wouldn’t take power for granted.”

“So, how did Agathe get it?” Étienne asks carefully. 

“Agathe’s powers came to her when her father died and passed them on to her. Normally, the powers stay in families. Agathe was supposed to use them to protect herself from harm when she couldn't find a spouse, but she chose to use them to hurt others because they wouldn't love her. Her first act was to go to Adam and test him because she had heard he wouldn’t obey her commands.” Cosette toys with a blade of grass. “So, she decided to hurt him because she could.” 

Étienne looks at the ground. “What were her powers?” 

Cosette gives him a cheeky grin, “Transformation.” 

He smiles. “It’s fitting … isn’t it then?” 

She looks at him. “You have changed so much, and yet not at all.” 

He gives her shrug and a grin as an answer. 

He opens his mouth carefully and slowly before asking. “Before I go, I-I have to know ... how did you find your way back to us?” 

She looks at him with a stare that held all the sadness in the world. “Papa wanted me to die with her. But, _maman_ wouldn’t let me. I begged for money, and found from the people of each town along the way where you had gone. I’m just glad that the last year of my life was spent with you.” 

He looks at her, “I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder to keep you with us.” 

“Never be sorry for things you could not change,” she smiles cupping his cheek. "You were not in control of my fate." 

She places a kiss on his forehead. 

“I love you, and I don’t want to go.” He whispers. “But, I have to.” 

“I was hoping that’s what you would say,” she bites her lip. “I will be waiting for at least another twenty years, I hope.” 

“If it’s forty will you still be here?” He asks his voice filled with a determination he’d forgotten he had. 

“You better believe it.” She laughs. 

After a long pause, she asks, “Are you ready?”

“More than I know,” he takes a deep breath and embraces his sister for the last time.

The next sensation he registers is floating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Easter Eggs:
> 
> "Filled with a determination he forgot he had" is an Undertale reference. "You must stay determined" is what you see every time you die in the game. 
> 
> Title: Line from "Music of the Night" from Phantom of the Opera - my first musical ;) 
> 
> Cosette's name is still a Les Miserables reference if I didn't mention that. 
> 
> And, I am still a musical junkie. That has not changed. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this one.


	36. And I Have Come Back To Life

The gold light enfolds Étienne, and he rises up in the air. He relishes the familiar sense of floating for a moment. However, the shimmering white lights blind him even behind his eyelids. He could really get used to not having that happen. 

He opens his eyes, and he’s surprised to find the room is empty with the exception of two candles burning on either nightstand. The mirror in the room is covered, and the clock on the wall is stopped. Étienne has no idea when it was stopped, but a sinking sensation tells him that it was stopped as soon as he died. He looks down at his hands and sees that he's holding a shimmering golden light. Intuitively, he places the light in his hands over his side, and he feels a white hot sensation that quickly fades into nothing at all. 

He pulls up the side of the nightshirt and finds that all that is left of this ordeal is a faint pink scar. For a moment, he’s in shock. But, as the feeling dissipates, he finds himself feeling giddy with excitement. He wants to know if he can transform buds into full grown flowers. He wants to know if he can transform illness into health. 

_The first you can. The second is a different gift._ Something inside him says.

 _Seasons?_ He wonders back.

 _Different Council._ The something responds.

He pouts for just a moment, and then he smiles anyway.

He says to himself. “Ah well, good enough.”

_We like you already, you know? You want to grow and not destroy._ The little voice inside him says. _We will go now unless you ask us something._

Shortly after, Étienne registers the echoing sounds of screaming, crashing, and crying from outside the door. He notices that it doesn’t hurt him to move, and he briefly wonders what to do. 

He wants to laugh, but he’s not sure if he should. 

He wants to cry, but he’s not sure why he would to do that. He thinks, maybe, it has to do with the overwhelming gratitude and joy he feels. 

Instead, he takes a deep sigh of relief. He looks up at the sky and asks what he should do. 

_Listen to your heart,_ the magical voice tells him. 

He’s not sure what his heart is saying. Part of him is saying he should just leave the room and tear off the revelation that he's alive like a bandage. Another part of him, that is more rational, tells him that would cause them to die of shock. 

He eventually decides to just wait until someone comes back. He’ll only leave if he is desperately hungry. 

He smiles to himself and wonders if that might not be sooner than he things. 

He waits until the sounds begin to fade. He awkwardly stares at the door and then the ceiling, and then he stares at the door for awhile. 

He eventually dozes off after a few more minutes of waiting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, I thought this was fitting. Étienne is nothing but the epitome of awkwardness to me. There is nothing more awkward than having to figure out how to not scare the living crap out of people when you've come back from the dead. 
> 
> Easter Egg:  
> Title: Night at the Museum 2 reference. 
> 
> The funeral images are traditionally, according to my studies, Irish. Though, I haven't looked into whether or not other Celtic nations held the same beliefs. They come from practices that were a part of the tradition of "The Merry Wake." However, these and keening are a little bit more "supernatural" and serious in nature. I really wanted to include just a bit of my folklore studies here.   
> I'd love to teach this to my middle schoolers, but I don't think they'd handle it well.
> 
> Yes, asking if he can control season was a Frozen reference. 
> 
> Only a little left!


	37. Happily Ever After

He must be hallucinating. 

He’s finally become "Crazy Old Maurice," and he's certainly gone round the bend this time. 

He has to have because Étienne can’t be … breathing? 

Yet, Maurice is certain that Étienne is actually breathing. Maurice has to smile when he sees that Étienne looks as though he is just sleeping. They young man's chest rises and falls softly with each life giving breath. The fevered flush is no where to be seen, and Maurice has to wonder if he hasn't just seen a miracle. 

Maurice had come in with the intention of doing what he knew no one else could do. For, he  had thought that he would certainly have to begin preparing Étienne's body for burial, but Maurice wonders in surprise if he doesn't have to. 

Yet, he knows he has to prove this is real. Maurice walks around to the left side of the bed, and he places his hand just above Étienne’s nose and mouth. 

His eyes go wide. If he’s hallucinating, this is the most real hallucination he could imagine.

For, he discovers, he can feel Étienne's breath on his hand. 

The door opens behind him, and he turns to discover Cogsworth standing in the doorway.

He knows he’s not dreaming when the other man’s eyes go wide with the same realization. 

“Do not despair,” Cogsworth smiles to himself shaking his head. “For there is always a reason to hope. You old fool ...” 

Maurice watches Cogsworth leave the room with a spring in his step. Maurice had yet to see Cogsworth filled with joy, and, upon seeing it, he hoped it would never fade.

Very soon, the room is filled with people crying tears of joy and happiness. 

When Étienne wakes the second time, he finds himself greeted by hugs, tears of joy, and love that he has felt nor found in a long time.

The door bursts open for a final time revealing a bedraggled and half-crazed Stanley. His eyes are bloodshot, and he is the most unkempt he'd ever been in his life.

Stanley falls on top of Étienne sobbing. “This is real right? This … this isn’t a dream? I'm not going to wake up and find you gone?” 

Étienne tucks a piece of Stanley’s hair behind his ear, “Nope. Not a dream.” 

“Pr-prove it,” Stanley whispers. "I need to know. I need to know you're real." 

Étienne leans forward and does the only thing he can think of doing. He presses his lips softly against Stanley’s. He cups Stanley's cheek with his hand, and he wipes away the few remaining tears. Étienne takes a deep breath in, and he deepens the kiss with all tenderness and compassion he has in him. 

Stanley tastes like many long and sleepless nights, but Étienne doesn't mind. He wouldn't dream of anything else being the first thing his lips touched. His hand weaves its way through Stanley's hair. He gently strokes it with his fingers. He hears Stanley's soft cries subsiding into something almost like muffled laughter. 

The golden light from earlier ignites the last unlit candles in the room illuminating the couple. 

“Not a dream,” Étienne smiles gently holding Stanley's hand in his. 

“Nope,” Stanley laughs throwing his arms around Étienne. 

Tom and Dick stand back in the door way. Their hands are intertwined. 

Étienne finds himself gifted with realization and wisdom that spans the time of his power’s existence. His heart is gifted with the knowledge of what Agathe did with these powers, what her father did, what the sorcerer before Agathe’s father did, and all the way back to the beginning of the power’s existence. 

He gives them a smile and tries to tell them without words that he understands. He tries to tell them he’s been given wisdom more than he thinks he deserves.

 _But, maybe_ , he thinks, _that’s why I got it_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Happy Ending! 
> 
> I hope this didn't feel too rushed. I thought if I did any more with it that it would feel way too drawn out. 
> 
> I am including an Epilogue. But, of the main story this is it. It's finally over. 
> 
> I hope beyond all hope that this was a satisfying ending, and that I tied up all the loose ends. I'm really pleased with this story, and I hope that you are, too. 
> 
> I might write some one-shots in the future that involve details about what happened with certain characters in the period between Étienne's death and his coming back to life. I might also include one-shots that occur between this chapter and the Epilogue. But, I'm not sure I will or not. 
> 
> If there's anything you'd really like me to do, feel free to let me know in a comment. Otherwise, I'll just kind of proceed as I feel is necessary. 
> 
> Again, thanks for sticking with me through everything and for giving me such great feedback about what you liked and what I could improve.


	38. Epilogue

“So, are you ready?” Maurice asks him. “I’m going to put these on your face and the world will be totally different.” 

“I’m so ready for this.” Étienne grins. 

He's always imagined what having real sight would be like. Sure, he can see. But, he can't really. Everything about the world has run together into little blobs for as long as he can remember.

“Three … two … one…” Maurice slips the glasses onto Étienne’s nose, and then steps aside. 

There’s a moment of silence before Étienne speaks. 

“Woah … I did not see that coming.” He reaches out and touches the spines of the books in front of him. 

He notices that each character on the spine is not just a colored blob or a set of a few of them them, but instead, that each blob was a set of markings all along. He assumes those markings have meanings that he can only dream about knowing. But, he suddenly realizes that he has a chance of actually figuring out what each blob of markings means.

That desire to know is not just a dream anymore. 

“I had no idea these weren’t just… blobs. They actually have distinct shapes! There is a difference between this one,” he points to an “A,” “And this one,” he points to a “T.” 

Maurice shakes his head. “How long do you suppose you lived like that?”

“Almost as far back as I can remember,” Étienne breathlessly whispers as he stands continuing to poke the spines of the books. “I think the last thing I saw clearly was my sister’s face, and I was little then.” 

“Close your eyes, I have something to show you.” Maurice takes Étienne’s hand.

He guides him up the stairs to the roof. “Wait here and don’t open your eyes.”

Étienne cocks his head slightly to the side. “Okay?” 

It’s a matter of minutes before he hears the roof door open.

"Hello, 'Tienne." The voice laughs lightly and sits down across from him. 

It’s Stanley, Étienne recognizes his friends voice. He almost opens his eyes before he remembers he is supposed to keep them closed.

“Maurice told me, to tell you, that you can open your eyes now.” Stanley whispers. 

Étienne opens his eyes slowly. 

“Oh,” Étienne whispers.

He can see everything clearly now the slight stubble on Stanley's chin and the slight wrinkles around his eyes. He realizes now that Stanley’s face is no longer just colors. It is a proper face.

Étienne first notices that Stanley’s eyes are sort of hazel but maybe closer to brown. He looks up and sees how Stanley’s hair sort of rolls up around his face highlighting his jaw. They kind of look like cinnamon buns, and he quirks a smile at the realization. He also notices all the details in the fuzzy sideburns he loves so much. 

He sees Stanley’s beautifully bushy eyebrows for the first time, and he sees the fullness of Stanley’s lips. He wonders if Stanley is always this beautiful, or if Stanley is just beautiful because they belong to each other. He's not sure which one is true, but Stanley is beautiful regardless. 

Stanley lets Étienne stare. He lets him take in every detail, and he even turns to model so that Étienne can get a view of him from each side. He wiggles his eyebrows, and strikes poses. 

They both laugh at this. 

Étienne watches the world through the glass lenses. He relishes in the little metal band across his nose, and he memorizes what it feels like to wear them. He sees the leaves on the trees and the rose bushes. He sees the maze in Adam’s garden. He memorizes the way it twists and turns above. 

He realizes with a sudden joy that he sees. 

He sees everything now with surprising clarity. He knows Belle will be up here soon enough prompting him for reading lessons. Mrs. Potts will ask him if he would finally like to learn to bake. He feels such pure joy at the idea of these simple things that most of the world seems to take for granted. 

Stanley slips his hand in Étienne’s. “It’s been almost half a year now.” 

“I know.” Étienne nods. 

“Will you be alright?” Stanley asks, “When the day comes back around?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be. I have you. I have Mom, and the best little brother anyone could ask for.I have more distractions than anyone could ever want.” He smiles. 

They both laugh. 

“I will be fine.” Étienne smiles and wonders briefly at which one of them he's reassuring.

Étienne vows that he will accept every offer of distraction on that day and on every day. 

He never wants to leave them for even a moment again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official end. You are welcome for the feels and the fluff. 
> 
> I have throughly enjoyed writing this story. I am both glad and sorry it's ended. I am so proud of this work. I feel like I wrote it well, and it is something that I am and will be glad that people read. 
> 
> I've recently come across some of my old fics from when I was younger. And, I must admit, I cringed a little. But, I am ridiculously proud of this monster of a story. 
> 
> Shout outs to anyone who made it to the end. Thanks for sticking with me. 
> 
> To any sadistic human who finds this and decides to read the whole thing, thanks! 
> 
> In terms of future projects, don't expect much until summer. I am thinking about branching out into other fandoms to do some 5+1s. Looking at you Undertale and Breakfast Club. 
> 
> I am also in the process of PLOTTING OUT an extended work in the Tangled fandom. I will not be writing anything extensive until summer. So, if it happens, it won't happen until June. Long story short, I just got into Tangled the series, and we all know how much I love playing around with plot holes the size of Alaska surrounding complex rules of magic and alchemy. :D 
> 
> Lets just say a certain grieving 13-15 year old playing around with a mood potion with an already altered mood REALLY interests me. Also, that's dark shit for a children's TV show! Though, come to think about it, that movie was really dark when you analyze it. 
> 
> Any questions you have can be sent via comment. I always do my best to reply to comments even if it does take me a long time.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Mon Beau Garcon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610217) by [radiofedora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radiofedora/pseuds/radiofedora)
  * [Take a Break](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682223) by [Fanfictionismylife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfictionismylife/pseuds/Fanfictionismylife)




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